


In This Together

by Nationless



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Asexual Bruce Banner, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Pansexual Tony Stark, Platonic Cuddling, Slow Burn, no onscreen underage anything though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-01-09 14:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12278835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nationless/pseuds/Nationless
Summary: Bruce was pretty sure that he was going to be the youngest person at MIT. He didn't realize that honor actually went to his roommate, the already-infamous Tony Stark. Granted, the child prodigy turns out to be nothing like he expects, for better or worse, and Bruce figures that they just have to make it work. Besides, it should only be for one semester, right?Or, the fic where they live together, move out together, and eventually get together.





	1. First Semester

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! All right, so this was actually intended to be a one-shot, but seeing as I've already got over 15,000 words and I'm maybe halfway done, we're going to do it like this instead. I think I got everything tagged that's major, but I'll definitely let you guys know if they do change, and I try to put more minor CWs in chapter notes as needed.
> 
> With all that said, I hope you guys enjoy (:

On one hand, graduating early had been one of the smarter moves Bruce had made in his life. The ever-increasing boredom of having finished the homework before his teachers even finished talking, the fact that all of the students  _ knew _ him, his backstory, and the fact that he was the one who ruined every single grading curve he was put on was slowly killing him and he knew it. On the other hand… Starting university mere weeks later might have been a mistake.

It hadn’t been necessarily easy, for all his intellect. Up until he was fourteen or fifteen, he hadn’t exactly anticipating living long enough to go to college. To say his early life was a mess would be an understatement, and it wasn’t until he was thirteen that he actually had some semblance of a stable home life. Then it took him another year or so to settle  _ into  _ that stable home life, but once he did--granted there had been one near-disaster in the process--Bruce actually started applying himself.

He pushed through classes as fast as he could, taking as many as he could online just so he could graduate faster, and there was a sense of relief when it paid off.

Technically speaking, he wouldn’t walk until May. He supposed that was what he got for graduating a year and a half early, instead of waiting out the last semester, but at that point, Bruce just desperately wanted out. And that desperation had led him to taking three English classes all at the same time while his cousin Jen just rolled her eyes and said he was going to burn out if he kept moving like that.

There was a good chance that she could be right.

However, he had acceptance letters and promises of full-ride scholarships that would hopefully at least keep that from happening. Most of his scholarships were dependent on his GPA, so if he slacked that was the end of it for him, because like hell Bruce could actually afford tuition at MIT. Or Caltech. Or Harvard. Or any of the other high-level universities he aspired to. And like hell his aunt Susan could afford to send him there either, especially when her own daughter was aiming for law school when she graduated.

He’d gotten lucky enough to get enough grants to cover the dorms, and hopefully enough extra for food and his textbooks. He’d rather not have to call his family for money if he could avoid it.

Bruce wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from his dorm mate, however. While he’d gotten an email stating that he  _ had _ one, no one had given him the guy’s name, email, number… Or any other way to actually get in touch with him before they moved in together.

When move in day finally came, Bruce assumed he had gotten to the dorms first. The space was bare when he arrived, and there was something almost reassuring about that. He would have a little bit of time to get used to the room before he had to share it. And he was probably going to need it, since he’d never actually had to share a room in his life. Close quarters, sure. That was normal for him. But he’d always had a separate bedroom, even if that room didn’t always have a door.

The peace really only lasted until Bruce had his meager belongings unpacked and set up. There was maybe five seconds before Bruce put down the only picture frame he had before the door slammed open, and he startled badly enough that he nearly toppled it over.

“Oh. I thought I was going to have a single this year.”

While anxiety had always been an issue, there were very few occasions where his temper wouldn’t win out over it. Though, when Bruce looked over at his new roommate to level a sharp glare at him, there were several things he noticed right away that tempered his immediate reaction.

First, he had a lot more bags than Bruce did. Enough that he wasn’t sure how he was going to fit them all in the small room.

Second, he looked young. Maybe younger than Bruce--which, considering he’d only turned seventeen a few weeks prior, was both comforting and unnerving at the exact same time. Especially since it sounded like this wasn’t his first semester.

Third, there was something almost uncomfortably pretty about that mess of dark hair, the fan of darker lashes around deep-set eyes, and olive skin.

Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly, forcing his gaze to drop. Reminding himself to be polite. “Well, they didn’t tell me anything about you, so it’s just a surprise all around.”

The boy seemed to shrug it off in favor of hauling his things inside.

And honestly, Bruce still wasn’t entirely sure how he was planning on unpacking it all in this space, but he supposed it would be fine. Not like Bruce had too much of his own things to take up room. So he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and just hoped that everything would be fine.

“I’m Tony, by the way,” the boy said, letting something clatter loudly onto one of the desks that nearly made Bruce wince. “Guess they didn’t tell me anything about you either, but that’s just life, huh?”

Bruce peered at him almost curiously. Tony. He looked like a Tony.

He watched the teen move, feeling vaguely like a creep but he knew that he’d feel like that moreso if he offered to help Tony unpack. They didn’t know each other. Touching his things would definitely be weird.

“That was kind of a prompt for you to tell me who you are,” Tony commented, dropping a handful of gears and… that was probably a kitchen appliance at some point, actually. They too clattered loudly on the laminate desk. “Are you bad at this small talk thing too? Because we’re going to have a rough time if you are.”

“You don’t seem to have much of a problem talking,” Bruce commented before he could think better of it. The second he heard the words, he blanched, staring wide-eyed at Tony. That was rude. That was  _ horribly _ rude.

And yet, Tony offered him a grin that was mostly teeth, flashing bright in a way that might have been threatening but still somehow looked genial. “I never said my problem was the talking part, babe. Seriously though, am I going to get your name or am I just going to have to run the gamut with endearments until you tell me? Because I will. And I won’t feel bad about it for a second. My last roommate was ‘honeybear’, and I can and will come up with something worse.”

A hot, embarrassed blush flooded his cheeks as Bruce’s gaze fixed immediately on the floor. Bruce tried not to wonder if it was in response to ‘babe’, or the reminder of his gaff. “Bruce. Bruce Banner.”

Tony hummed loudly, opening up a different bag and pulling out books. Textbooks, worn out paperbacks, several different instruction manuals… “You have a professor name. Or  a doctor name. Like you should have some kind of official position, you know?”

Bruce didn’t know. And he was starting to wonder if Tony knew either, or if he just liked the sound of his own voice and that was the only thing that came to his mind. Either way, he supposed his hopes of a quiet roommate had been pretty much ignored, if this was any indication.

Vaguely, he was reminded of how wrongfooted he’d felt the first two years living with his aunt and cousin. Like he should probably be walking on eggshells, even if he didn’t have the faintest clue how to do that in the new scenario.

* * *

It wasn’t until maybe the third day of classes that Bruce realized that there was a reason that Tony hadn’t offered up a surname. In retrospect, it was almost embarrassing that he hadn’t picked up on it sooner. After all, Tony Stark had already made something of a name for himself, even if it was probably mostly by proxy as far as Bruce was concerned.

“Tony Stark’s kind of a disaster, isn’t he? I heard his last roommate got so sick of him that he joined the military before the semester even ended,” some boy in their shared bio lab had muttered to his partner shortly after Tony breezed in.

The lab had honestly been half over, not that it seemed to concern him any. It was the first time Bruce had actually seen any indication that Tony attended class at all, in spite of his odd hours and the fact that he was rarely in their dorm.

If Tony  _ actually _ heard the snide comment, he didn’t make any indication of it and instead promptly took the empty seat next to Bruce and pilfered his notes. “Your handwriting is so neat,” he had commented, brow furrowed slightly while the rest of his expression remained almost unnervingly neutral.

He didn’t really talk much after that, and he had stood up to leave a few minutes before the lab was supposed to end.

To put it mildly, his roommate was very different than Bruce’s idea of Tony Stark. When Bruce had passingly heard of the child genius, he thought of someone precise. Someone who had routines, and kept his head down solely because the work was more interesting than anything or anyone else.

Maybe he expected someone more like himself, if he was being honest. As grandiose and ridiculous as that sounded. Instead, he got… Well, as that boy in their bio lab had said, kind of a disaster. Which was really being showcased right now.

“My entire body hurts,” Tony complained before collapsing face-first onto Bruce’s bed.

Bruce sighed heavily, well aware that it was past midnight and he  _ really _ needed to finish the chapter reading as soon as possible. He didn’t need distractions. Couldn’t afford them much either.

In spite of all of his earlier reservations about the two of them being the youngest on campus, Bruce was beginning to feel like some long-suffering parent for Tony. “I’m sure you’re fine, Tony. Go to bed.”

Tony grumbled, picking himself just enough to look plaintively up at Bruce and--

“Jesus, your face,” he breathed, horrified. That was… That was not what he expected. It felt like his heart stopped for half a second, trying to rationalize just  _ why _ Tony was on his bed and bleeding.

Maybe, objectively, the bloody lip shouldn’t have freaked him out as much. God knew that Bruce had seen and experienced far worse things, and yet… 

“Asshole didn’t get the difference between ‘harder’ and ‘too hard’,” Tony explained, shrugging it off in spite of the grimace on his lips. “Stop freaking out; I’m fine.”

Bruce swallowed thickly, feeling his throat tighten up for so many reasons he didn’t want to look at right now. Mostly because Tony just seemed more annoyed than anything right now. As if this wasn’t any sort of big deal and like this kind of thing happened all the time. To distract himself, he gingerly got out of bed and grabbed some tissues for Tony to hold against the cut. Or the bite. Whatever it was. He didn’t think he actually wanted to know the details. “You just said your entire body hurt,” Bruce reminded.

“Yeah but it’s not like someone beat me up.” Tony scoffed derisively, but pressed the tissues to his face even though it muffled everything he said. “Seriously, you’re freaking out over nothing. Everything’s good; just didn’t realize how rough he was gonna get with me. And I asked him to be rough, before you start clutching your pearls or whatever.”

“I wasn’t aware I was starring in a soap opera. I’ll be sure to behave accordingly,” Bruce snipped back before thinking better of it. Shit. He wasn’t supposed to… He should really be making sure Tony was  _ ok _ , not being a sarcastic dick. His hands clenched in the covers hard enough that the knuckles went white within seconds.

Tony snorted, inelegant as anything as his eyes crinkled at the corners. “You better not make me remind you twice. I expect lots of over-acting out of you, Banner.”

Bruce’s heart thudded almost painfully, even as an answering smile touched his own lips. It was a mess. Bruce was a mess, and whatever his emotions were doing didn’t seem to be lining up well with the moment. “It’s really just the lip, right? I don’t have to worry about any punctured lungs or contusions?”

He could only barely make out Tony’s nose wrinkling. “Who even says contusions? Christ.” Tony rolled his eyes before rolling onto his back. Apparently he was just going to make himself comfortable on Bruce’s bed, in spite of the fact that his own wasn’t even two yards away. “I’m fine. No bad bruises. I’m just… Sore, I guess. I’ll be over it in the morning.”

Really, he shouldn’t have to be getting over anything, in Bruce’s opinion. Fine, he understood that people had less than conventional sex lives, and that it was especially prevalent in college. But he didn’t think that Tony should be stumbling back late, bleeding, and complaining about being in pain.

Especially since he had come to the realization that Tony wouldn’t even be seventeen until the end of the semester, which actually made Bruce the second youngest student here by a grand total of five months. Not much, but enough that it felt significant all the same.

“I can practically feel you worrying. Relax, mom, I’m ok. Didn’t even take my pants off, if that’s what you’re fretting over. Go back to reading.”

“That would be a lot easier if you weren’t taking up my entire bed,” Bruce pointed out drily. If Tony was amused by it before…

Maybe it was fine. Maybe they both tended to use humor to deflect from things that were going wrong.

True to form, Tony sighed dramatically, scooting over just enough so that Bruce could squeeze himself onto the edge of the bed and at least somewhat under the covers. “I hate how small these are but I don’t want to go through the hassle of getting student housing somewhere else so I could have a bigger bed. You know?”

At this moment, Bruce was at least inclined to agree that a bigger bed  _ would _ be nice. If either of them had been any taller or any broader this wouldn’t have even worked, Bruce realized as he tried to tug even a little bit more blanket over him. It was barely working as it was. “I can’t say the thought has crossed my mind, no,” Bruce said. “Now can you please hush for a while? I really need to get through this.”

Almost blessedly, Tony kept his mouth shut for the remainder of the night. Even though he’d ended up curling up on Bruce’s lap like an oversized cat not long after he eventually passed out.

* * *

For all the idle talk around campus about how terrible and stressful Tony was to be around for long periods of time… Bruce didn’t usually have too many issues. They had some kind of weird mutual understanding that had grown out of sarcasm, and the fact that, for some unknown reason, Tony tended to listen to Bruce.

It was little things, really. An odd comment about how Tony didn’t seem to take any of this seriously led him to actually studying on weekends with him. Bruce mentioned once that Tony should maybe be a little less reckless when it came to parties, and he at least stopped coming home with bruises on his hips that made Bruce wince at the mere sight every time Tony changed in front of him.

Tony, in his shifting opinion, was manageable. Still a bit of a wreck in regards to his organization, but he was a manageable wreck.

Granted, it really only took one thing to throw that theory out the window.

It wasn’t even two months in when Bruce came home to the smell of… God, what the hell had been burned?

He’d vaguely heard that a fire alarm went off in the building his dorm was in, but no one seemed to have any more details than that. The fire trucks had been there and left at some point during Bruce’s two hour lab.

“What happened?” he asked, nearly dropping his bag at the entrance. The smoke wasn’t  _ awful _ , but… There was definitely something charred and almost plasticky in the air that had Bruce wanting to cover his nose.

The room itself looked about the same. No obvious scorch marks on anything, and the industrial grey carpet looked fine, but Tony was wild-eyed with what he was assuming were the remains of the fire alarm in front of him. “In my defense, there is absolutely no reason that it should have lit up at such a low temperature,” he said, blinking a little owlishly.

There were pretty dark circles under his eyes, and Bruce vaguely wondered if he’d been up since yesterday. “You started a fire,” he said flatly, not entirely sure what he was supposed to do with this. Was he supposed to tell someone? There’d already been talk that the fire department had been involved, so he assumed someone probably knew.

“When you put it like that, it sounds intentional,” Tony muttered, a petulant twist to his mouth. “It wasn’t supposed to get that hot. And cotton doesn’t usually burn, so I figured the sheets would be fine--”

“You set your  _ bed _ on fire?” Bruce cut in, pretty sure he was going to have a heart attack far too young if the pounding in his chest was anything to go by.

“It wasn’t intentional!” Tony pushed back waves of dark hair from his forehead, clearly frustrated. The motion left a streak of ash across his temple that Bruce tried not to stare at. “Ok, I set the hot plate aside for, like, twenty minutes and next thing I know it’s burning my sheets. Then the fire alarm went off, so I had to dismantle it, except by then the firefighters had already been alerted so it was a moot point anyways, and now here we are.”

Bruce wasn’t even sure what to say to that. Were they even  _ allowed _ hot plates? And what the absolute hell had he been trying to do with it in his bed?

In the silence, Tony started fidgeting, moving the dismantled pieces of plastic across the floor in some indiscernible pattern. “I might need a place to sleep until I get them replaced,” he said softly, glancing up at Bruce from under a heavy fan of dark lashes.

Bruce let out a slow breath. Vaguely, he felt like he was infinitely older than Tony was. As if he was more like the caretaker of a kid rather than one in a pair of teenagers that were supposedly capable of living on their own.

And at the same, unfortunate time, he was trying not to notice the full pout of his lower lip and the way that Tony’s hands seemed to move almost gracefully over their destroyed fire alarm. “Just share with me, then. I’d really rather not worry about you seducing other students just so you can share theirs.”

He caught the slight wince before Tony nodded slightly.

It was fine, Bruce told himself. Tony would get new sheets and a different mattress, and would be in his own bed by the end of the week.

* * *

Sharing such close proximity with Tony was awkward, to say the least. When it was just them sharing a room, at least there was some semblance of their own space, in spite of the fact that Tony’s mess had started encroaching into Bruce’s half on week two. Now, though…

He hadn’t really known that Tony was all elbows before. Elbows and sharp edges, in spite of his best efforts to take up as little space as possible on a single mattress while he was settling in.

Bruce, more often than not, ended up crowded against the wall, trying not to move and hoping that eventually he would find sleep.

It didn’t look like Tony had any difficulties in that department, though. Which Bruce would have been fine with, except Tony was  _ tactile _ when he slept, and he wasn’t exactly quiet either. And it couldn’t be something as simple as Tony snoring, because of course not.

He had to sigh, and mumble, and moan, and really test Bruce’s ability to not jerk off while his roommate was in his  _ bed _ . While his roommate was aggressively trying to cover Bruce, because of course he couldn’t just stick to his half of the bed. He couldn’t stick to his half of the  _ room _ .

This shouldn’t have been a problem. Bruce had never really wanted anything to do with another person--whether it was because he was always too busy or because he was wired that way, he really didn’t know. He just figured it would come to him when life slowed down a little. When it was convenient.

But of course Tony had to come in and somehow make him ask those questions of himself in the middle of the night, simply because he liked to throw a leg over Bruce’s hip while he slept.

It didn’t help that he recognized on day one that Tony was objectively attractive. And while he was generally able to set that aside, it was a lot harder when he was radiating warmth, and tugging at Bruce until his hips were flush with Tony’s ass or his ass to be flush with Tony’s hips, all while muttering and sighing nonsense to himself.

The good news was, Tony was usually out of bed before Bruce’s alarm went off, so Bruce didn’t actually have to face the humiliation if he’d accidentally gotten hard in the middle of the night.

At this point, Bruce was pretty sure that Tony had always gone to class fairly regularly. He just took most of his classes obscenely early and returned to their room soon after to lounge around in his pajamas until late in the afternoon. Then he had labs on Mondays and Wednesdays, and a block class on Thursdays.

That realization really just made Bruce wonder how many credit hours Tony was taking, because while he seemed to be less stressed about it than almost all of the other full time students Bruce knew, he also seemed to be taking way more than 12 credit hours now that Bruce was actually paying attention. And, he’d admit to himself, now that he wasn’t as blinded by his own envy.

“Are you ever going to actually take the time to go get new bedding?” Bruce asked two weeks later. He’d just gotten back class, and Tony was hanging out on his bed, feet propped up on the wall in a way that really reminded Bruce of a child.

“You make it sound like I have enough free time to actually go looking,” Tony said, not tearing his eyes from his laptop. “Why, does it bother you or something? It hasn’t even been a month.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, setting his bag by the door instead of pulling his class work out like he really should. “These beds aren’t made to fit two people. Even two slightly-shorter-than-average people. Besides, it  _ does _ look like you have enough free time to order a replacement mattress or go find a new blanket.”

Tony set his laptop down on the bed, leveling Bruce with a sharp glare that was only marginally less effective considering that he was upside down. “I’m preparing for my thesis next semester. I’ve got to read two different articles by six tomorrow morning, and track down a case study from ten years ago. I know it looks like I have time, but I barely have time to even eat right now, so could you just lay off,  _ dad _ ?”

It was hard not to wince. But one thing he’d learned from living with his actual father was that he shouldn’t react when someone was spitting venom. Even if it was as mild as what Tony was saying.

Instead, he took a slow breath before rifling through Tony’s bag. If he remembered right…

“What are you doing?” Tony asked, voice still sharp enough that Bruce solidified the neutral expression on his face.

At the end of the day, Bruce recognized that Tony was more bluster than anything. He didn’t throw things, didn’t get anything more than argumentative when he was drunk, and he flinched whenever he so much as  _ saw  _ someone get pushed on campus. So while Bruce could rationalize most of his nerves to the point where he could root around for his wallet, it wasn’t quite to the point where he wasn’t still watching Tony in his periphery.

“I’m going to get you lunch,” Bruce said, keeping his voice even as he pulled out the smooth leather wallet. The thing probably cost more than Bruce’s entire outfit. “Well. You’re paying for it, but I figured that if you didn’t have to get it, it would help.”

Tony deflated, seeming to go slack against the bed. “Thank you,” Tony mumbled. “You don’t have to do that.”

And really, Bruce thought, he shouldn’t have to. But that wasn’t the point right now. He’d rather keep things as relaxed as possible, especially since they were apparently going to keep sharing a bed for the foreseeable future. “Just tell me what you want, within reason.”

The small, almost shy smile Tony offered him almost made the time he was about to lose worthwhile.

* * *

Bruce was pretty sure he couldn’t wait until he got a different roommate. As much as he liked Tony, he was so sure that he’d be ready to get a roommate who  _ didn’t _ hog Bruce’s blankets because he refused to get new sheets, and didn’t come back to the room smelling like either engine grease or cheap bourbon.

Except when finals finally came up, Bruce started to second guess himself.

“Seriously, you’re stressing over nothing,” Tony cajoled, even as his own nose was buried in a textbook. “You’ve done the readings, I’m pretty sure you’re still acing all your classes, and you’re panicking over nothing.”

“You have absolutely no idea if I’m passing or failing my classes, Tony,” Bruce contradicted, reaching across the bed to gently nudge Tony’s knee with his own. “And you can’t tell me not to stress when I could lose scholarships over this. My literal future here is reliant on if I can pass these finals, because I can barely afford to be here as it is.”

Most of the reasons why Bruce’s finances were even in the positives were because Tony insisted on bringing back food and snacks almost constantly ever since Bruce had picked up lunch the one time. It meant he didn’t have to dip into his checking account that often to eat, even if he probably lost a bit of weight as a result.

Tony scoffed, deciding to sprawl across Bruce’s lap and tossing his book aside. “How about this. If you fail because you took a break like I asked, I’ll pay for your next semester. Deal?”

Something twisted in Bruce’s gut at the notion. It was easy, sometimes, to forget just who he shared a room with. In his mind, Tony Stark was an entirely separate person from the Tony he knew, and the casual reminder at the wealth…

Hell, Tony could afford to pay Bruce’s tuition for a decade and not even think twice.

Gently, Bruce pushed him away so he could stand, stretching the slightest bit. His posture was going to be a wreck by the time summer rolled around, he was sure of it. “How about I keep studying, and you don’t pay for my next semester?”

He caught the fact that Tony stuck his tongue out before managing to take up the entire bed in one sprawl. “You’re such a spoilsport, Brucie,” he complained. “That’s the only reason I’m hesitating over requesting to share a room with you next semester.”

That brought Bruce a moment of pause, because… Well… Maybe sharing wouldn’t be so terrible. Better the devil he knew rather than risk someone worse. And knowing his luck? Tony might well be the most tolerable roommate he’d have. Besides. It was nice to have someone that didn’t make him feel like a too-young freak for being here. Even though Tony  _ still _ hadn’t turned seventeen yet, which was really unnerving considering the hickeys he still came back with from time to time.

Unnerving considering the hickeys Bruce decidedly wanted to cover with his own marks.

The five month difference wasn’t really a big deal. It just looked bigger considering Tony was still sixteen, and sleeping around like the rest of the college students, as if he was just as old as they were.

It made him worry if that had been going on since Tony had enrolled two years ago.

“And here I was thinking you were so eager to live off campus for your own where the beds were actually a decent size,” Bruce said, a little belatedly.

Tony hummed noncommittally, waving his hand vaguely. “Yeah, but then I can’t ask you to get my chips while you’re standing up, so. Pros and cons.”

Bruce rolled his eyes fondly, even though he crossed the room to grab the half-eaten bag of tortilla chips that Tony had been snacking on for the last two days. “You’re lucky I like you as much as I do, or I’d make you get them yourself.”


	2. Second Semester

Tony went home for the summer, which Bruce had honestly been grateful for. MIT didn’t bother putting him with another student, considering that there were hardly enough people remaining to justify doubling them all up, so he actually got to move his things into a dorm all his own for the semester.

Either that, or Bruce had just gotten lucky and had drawn one of the few single rooms. He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to ask.

It was quiet regardless, and while Bruce had been so sure he would appreciate that, as well as finally getting his own bed, it was almost bittersweet. It was almost a little lonely, he had to admit to himself. Classes went by, he’d occasionally meet up with some of the other students, even more occasionally he’d end up at the student health center to take advantage of the discounted therapy,  and when he came back to the dorms, there wasn’t anyone there. No furious typing on a keyboard. No shuffling across the carpet. Especially none of Tony’s almost ceaseless chatter.

So maybe he was a little more grateful than he originally anticipated when he got the email saying that he would be sharing with Tony again fall semester.

Though, the promise that Tony would return didn’t really stop him from continuing to seeking out company from some of the others left on campus. And while one of them managed to get  him into bed, Bruce had left with the feeling that it should have been more monumental than it had felt. As if he hadn’t gotten what everyone had been raving about.

He tried not to think too much about it, and he just hoped that Tony would never find out.

It almost felt like something loosened in his chest when he heard the door unlock and open when September finally came around.

“I heard you didn’t even leave.”

Bruce shrugged, forcing himself to keep his eyes on his screen. As much as he’d honestly missed Tony, it almost felt a little pathetic. He’d prefer to keep the illusion that he was unaffected by his absence.

“Summer classes don’t cost as much, and the class sizes are smaller,” he said as he continued to click through Wikipedia articles. The day had started on a book synopsis that was on his next semester's English list, and next thing he knew he was halfway through an article on sound therapy. Clearly he needed the kind of distraction Tony tended to provide. There was absolutely no reason for him to be reading this.

Tony hummed disinterestedly as he started unpacking. “If I tell you that I still didn’t get new sheets, are you going to be mad at me? I mean I  _ did _ , but you didn’t really seem to mind that much. Except for lecturing me that one time.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing his eyes as if that would alleviate some of the strain building up behind them, mentally reminding himself to actually look into reading glasses instead of just thinking about it. “You could literally buy a house all for yourself. Why wouldn’t you buy sheets so you could have your own bed?”

“Mostly because you’re warm and are a pretty decent cuddler. Rhodey somehow manages to be  _ bad _ at cuddling; how awful is that going to be for whoever he gets married to?”

As if Tony actually had much room to talk about being a bad cuddler.

Knowing that he probably was going to spend the rest of the day trying to get Tony all the attention he was going to demand, Bruce shut his laptop to look at his roommate and--

Jesus, summer had been good to him.

There was something almost golden about him, and Bruce was almost uncomfortably aware of the slight broadening of his shoulders and the brightness of his teeth against his lips. The way that he actually looked a little older, in spite of the fact that it had really only been four months.

Bruce really should have thought twice before agreeing to go through this again; somehow, the time apart had made him forget the sort of tension that was between them. Maybe he thought that since he’d managed to get himself laid that a lot of that would ease up, but it was feeling like he’d made a mistake on that front. There was still that weird feeling in his chest whenever he looked at Tony too long. Though, he hoped that they wouldn’t have a repeat of last year, since Tony would hopefully stay in his own bed this time.

“Rhodey?” he ended up asking, belatedly realizing that it was probably too late for him to ask. That it was awkward now.

“Left me for the military just before you came. I was devastated,” Tony answered promptly. Matter-of-factly. “He was my roommate before you, and let me tell you, he was all elbows when it came to cuddling. I’m a little traumatized.”

Which meant Rhodey must be the one that supposedly left for the military mid-semester because Tony was too difficult a roommate. Still, it was hard not to scoff at the irony of Tony complaining about him being ‘all elbows’ when that was the exact same problem that he had. “Traumatized, really?”

Tony looked him dead in the eye, a pair of worn out paperbacks in hand. “He pushed me out of bed the first time. Now, I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a delicate flower who can’t handle roughhousing.”

“Says the one who ‘appreciates the difference between rough and too rough’,” Bruce quipped, probably misremembering exactly what Tony had said at the time.

“There’s no need to be such a dick,” Tony complained, in spite of the grin tugging at his lips. “Ok, but it’s different if I’m expecting and asking for it, you know? Actually, I don’t know if you know; you look like the kind of person who’s either never been kissed, or has a weird kinky sex dungeon. No real middle ground.”

Mortification instantly colored Bruce’s cheeks, staring blankly ahead of him as he just… How was he supposed to answer that?   _ Was _ he supposed to answer that? Maybe he could just--

Well no, if he left it alone Tony was going to keep needling him about it through the semester, and Bruce would really rather nip it in the bud. “Not a virgin, but no kinky sex dungeon either. Sorry to disappoint.”

Tony didn’t immediately respond, and Bruce’s brow furrowed a bit as he looked over at him.

There was something almost considering about his expression, and he couldn’t tell if there was something almost annoyed too or if he was just reading too much into it. “And here I was thinking I was sharing a room with a paradigm of virtue. Good to know you’re capable of letting loose a little bit, but I’m kind of bummed I didn’t get to see it.”

“That’s what you get for not tripping me into bed. You have no one to blame but yourself.” The words were out of Bruce’s mouth before he could even think them through, and maybe he should consider finding his verbal filter. Then again, it was mostly Tony’s fault that he let it loose as much as he did.

Tony just scoffed, flopping down onto Bruce’s bed again. It was probably out of spite, but it still made Bruce smile a little bit.

* * *

Somehow, the near-mania that had plagued the latter half of their last semester seemed even worse now. And apparently the way Tony was handling the excess of energy was to go out even  _ more _ than before, and then crawl into Bruce’s bed in the middle of the night.

While that hadn’t been completely out of the ordinary, it seemed to happen more and more often now. Normally, Bruce wouldn’t really consider that a problem, but apparently something had changed enough that he didn’t simply curl up in Bruce’s bed and try to aggressively cuddle him. If Bruce thought he’d been handsy before, it didn’t compare to now.

“Tony, you’re beyond drunk,” Bruce said, trying to get his hands away from the waist of his pants. “You can stay here, but you can’t touch.”

“Brucie, come on…” Tony blessedly stopped reaching and settled for laying on top of Bruce. “It’ll be fun. Besides, aren’t we kind of going in that direction anyways?”

He tried not to cringe, both from the bad pet name and the fact that Tony had apparently refused to let either of them be comfortable, considering the knee that was digging into his hip. “We’re really not, Tony,” Bruce chided, gently nudging him until he was safely curled up on the side of the bed. Even though Tony refused to unloop his arms from around Bruce’s waist. “What’s gotten into you? You weren’t this… erratic last semester.”

Abruptly, the mood shifted as Tony went still. There was a soft, pained noise as Tony tried to bury his face into Bruce’s side.

Bruce sighed, figuring that he’d just have to take this in stride as he took to trying to get Tony under the covers, which was more difficult considering he was  _ on _ the covers.

“It’s all too much right now. You, this school, my dad…” Tony sighed, finally getting properly under the blankets and burying himself there. “I’m  _ tired _ , and I want you to like me but you liked me more last semester so I’m definitely doing something wrong here, and I can’t believe I don’t get the opportunity to take your v-card, because I feel like it  _ obviously _ should have gone to me.”

Somehow, the waterfall of words was exactly what Bruce expected and so far from anything he could have anticipated at the exact same time. And as much as he wanted to take it to heart, he couldn’t. Not with Tony being far from sober and the fact that he’d given no indication of being interested in Bruce otherwise.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to sort out what he wanted to deal with first. Then quickly realizing he didn’t want to deal with any of it, he settled for rubbing the back of Tony’s neck instead in an attempt to get him to calm down. It was a gesture he’d picked up from his mother, and then his aunt years later, and judging by Tony’s usual reaction to touch… hopefully it would help. “Go to sleep, Tony. Take tomorrow off and sort yourself out, all right?”

“I can’t take tomorrow off,” Tony complained, scooting up so he could burrow into Bruce’s chest instead. Which at least made it so his head wasn’t under the blankets now, so that was good. “Tomorrow’s a labs day. And I actually  _ like _ lab days.”

In spite of himself, a rueful smile tugged at Bruce’s lips as he continued rubbing at the delicate skin at the top of his spine. Sometimes, Bruce hated how easily he was charmed by Tony. Even when the younger was infinitely frustrating, and more confusing than he would have liked normally. “Then get to bed and get some sleep. Staying up and talking isn’t going to help right now.”

Tony sighed heavily, managing to splay himself across the limited bed space, as well as over Bruce once again. Blessedly, his hands stayed curled up in Bruce’s shirt this time. “Are you going to hate me in the morning?” he whispered.

“I’m never going to hate you.” The fact that Tony wanted that kind of confirmation… It broke his heart a little. Before he could think better of it, he ducked down just enough to kiss the top of Tony’s head, regardless of any kind of mixed signals he might be sending, because sometimes it looked like Tony needed the physical comfort more than Bruce ever did, and that was definitely saying something.

* * *

Thankfully, Tony seemed to calm down after that, to an extent. Sure, he got progressively more snappish during his late-night work sessions, but the drinking had died down once again, as did the all night parties. Though he still came home with hickeys and a dazed expression often enough to send uncomfortably possessive thoughts through Bruce’s head.

It didn’t help that Tony had started to tentatively seek out more affection from Bruce. It had started slow, really. Tony started lounging on Bruce’s bed more often than his own and lounging on Bruce himself, vaguely like they’d started to do before summer break.

That quickly evolved to where they were now, with Tony dropping ridiculously chaste kisses on Bruce’s face and neck whenever he  _ was _ curled up on him.

Bruce wasn’t really sure how to bring it up, really. He was even less sure if he wanted to, because in spite of the knowledge that it was probably a god awful idea for this to continue too long, it was… nice. There was something calming about the warm weight of him. And Bruce hated to admit that he’d gotten used to the scent of engine grease that clung to Tony, and the way he almost kneaded at Bruce when he was particularly high strung.

And he was getting used to the slightly chapped press of lips against his cheeks and temples.

Tony never said if anything was different, if anything between them was changing, and Bruce was loathe to approach the subject anyways which left them in a sort of limbo where Tony kept pushing, Bruce kept giving, and both of them were adamantly pretending that night didn’t happen. But somehow, it seemed to work for them.

“You’re a lot less skittish these days.”

Bruce frowned as he looked up at Tony, pretty sure he was actually supposed to be in a lecture at the moment instead of in the student center. “Well, you only set one fire, so I think relaxing would be fairly normal,” Bruce tried to joke.

Tony pulled a chair out, letting it squeal uncomfortably against the linoleum and scrutinizing Bruce’s response. “See, that’s what I mean. You didn’t even flinch.”

God knew Bruce wanted to. The sound was still ringing in his ears and grating against his teeth. But if there was one thing he  _ had _ learned from his father, it was how to keep a solid poker face in response to just about anything. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing? I’m not entirely sure where this conversation is going.”

Tony shrugged, settling himself on the chair and propping his chin in his palm. “So, I’m wondering if that means you wouldn’t mind moving off campus with me. You know, over winter break. I mean, you probably can’t be on the lease or anything, but who cares about legalities, right?”

That… was definitely something Bruce hadn’t considered. Actually, he had barely considered spring semester at all, aside from getting his class schedule set. His brow furrowed as he focused on his roommate. “Don’t you defend at the end of this semester? I thought you’d just move back home in December.”

A rare blush burned across Tony’s cheeks as he ducked his head, resolutely not looking at Bruce. “Yeah, but you’re still going to be here. I mean, if you want to take a chance on your next roommate that’s fine, but… The offer’s there, if you want it? I’m technically an emancipated minor, so it’s not like it matters where I live. I can sign the paperwork on my own, probably.”

Bruce was struck by just how… well,  _ odd  _ the entire situation was. Or how odd the entire time living with Tony had been.

Talk around campus had made Bruce think he might be some kind of ridiculously out of hand roommate and that he was some kind of holy terror, often citing Rhodey as an example of what happened to the people who lived with him. Except that had never really been Bruce’s experience with him.

Yes, Tony was overly tactile, and one of the more erratic people in Bruce’s recent life. And while there were moments when it seemed like he had aged far beyond most of the other students here, there were plenty of moments that Bruce was convinced Tony was actually five years old.

Maybe Bruce had developed a very high tolerance for annoyances, in spite of how short his temper tended to be at the worst of times. Somehow, over the eight months they’d lived together, Bruce was pretty sure he hadn’t actually lashed out at Tony once.

In spite of a lot of the shortcomings living with him entailed, it was  _ nice _ . Tony was someone that he could bounce ideas off of, and he’d actually understand all of what he was saying. Maybe even more than Bruce did, sometimes. Tony managed to pull him out of his own head without even realizing it, and god knew that Bruce felt a lot more stable with Tony around. Somehow. And while part of that could be chalked up to him actually talking to a professional on a vaguely regular basis…

“I don’t think I’d be able to afford it,” he hedged, opening up his laptop to at least give the impression that he was busy, hoping to curtail this conversation until later if nothing else.

“I can handle all of that,” Tony said, waving dismissively. “Seriously, I’m probably going to buy a place down here anyways. And I’m pretty sure it won’t cost much more to get a second bedroom, so.”

While that was probably true, Bruce was pretty sure that Tony had no idea how  _ much _ more expensive a second bedroom would be. Hell, he’d be surprised if Tony even knew how much a single would cost.

“You mean rent, right?” Bruce asked, belatedly realizing that Tony said he was going to  _ buy _ . As if that was just a normal thing for a seventeen year old to do.

Tony blinked a few times, biting the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, totally,” he said after a beat, a small grin on his lips.

Bruce tried not to sigh. If nothing else, he probably should do it just because Tony might not survive otherwise.

He tried not to think about when he accidentally became the closest thing to a parental figure Tony had in this vicinity. Which, in combination with the less than platonic way Bruce tended to think about him in the middle of the night was… Well, it was ridiculously unsettling more often than not. Even knowing that Tony was fully capable of handling himself if he absolutely needed to, and didn’t actually need Bruce to take care of him or shield him from any sort of danger.

Bruce just wanted to, sometimes.

“Ask me again closer to finals,” Bruce said, well aware that at this point he wasn’t actually going to say no.

Tony shrugged, though there was a genuinely relieved smile on his lips that Bruce couldn’t help but admire before turning back to his work. Of course, he had to aim a pointed look at Tony when he decided to edge his feet onto the edge of Bruce’s chair.

Yeah, he was definitely going to agree to move out with Tony. For purely altruistic reasons, of course. Not because he wasn’t sure how to get used to not having all the touch Tony tended to offer to him.

* * *

“We’re not getting a townhouse,” Bruce said flatly, looking at the listings Tony had pulled up to show him.

Not for the first time, he wondered why he  _ actually _ agreed to this. Bruce couldn’t even begin to afford any of these places, and the thought of having Tony pay for all of it… Well, suffice to say it didn’t sit well with him. Even if he was well aware that Tony could definitely afford it, and that Bruce could likely get a grant to live off campus. That didn’t mean he could afford his half of the mortgage on a townhouse on top of living expenses.

“Why not?” Tony asked, indignant. As if he couldn’t see anything slightly wrong with it.

Maybe he didn’t. Bruce had long since noticed his complete disregard towards the cost of anything.

On one notable occasion, Tony had given him twenty bucks to go buy a bottle of apple juice and painkillers and was shocked when Bruce had brought more than half of it back.

“Tony. We probably won’t live here forever. You can’t just buy a house for someplace you won’t stay more than a couple of years in. Besides, did you even look at how much these places cost?”

The slow blinking indicated that, no, Tony hadn’t even spared that a second thought. Which he thought was almost typical.

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… When you said ‘move out together’, I was thinking about something closer to an apartment. Not something so permanent. And we agreed that you were renting, not buying.”

There was an awkward pause where Tony looked like he almost wanted to start curling his free hand into the blanket. “Afraid of a little commitment, Brucie?” Tony tease, in spite of the weak smile on his face. “I’m hurt; I really am.”

“Says the one who tried to triple major because you couldn’t just pick two,” Bruce muttered, scribbling out another section of his biology essay. It wasn’t right, again. Something about the wording didn’t look right, and while his professor  _ probably _ wouldn’t care, Bruce would.

Tony sighed dramatically before sprawling himself over Bruce’s legs. “But think of all the  _ space _ we could have,” he wheedled, aiming those big doe eyes up at Bruce.

If he was a weaker man, Bruce would probably let him, honestly. As it was, he had to take a slow breath and gently nudge Tony off of him before he could answer. “Tony, if you get a townhouse I’m going to try my luck on campus. That’s way too much money and I couldn’t even begin to afford that.”

“I can--”

“ _ You _ are not paying for all of it no matter where we end up,” Bruce interrupted, trying to ignore the over-exaggerated pout Tony leveled at him. “Go look up some apartments, please. Because I’d really rather not get stuck with a different roommate if I can help it.”

Tony grumbled under his breath before sprawling right back over Bruce. “You’re way too concerned about what I buy.”

It was hard not to roll his eyes, though he did set aside his work so that Tony could settle back against his chest as he pulled up another set of listings. “I only care when you’re buying something that I’m involved in. Sooner you look, the sooner we can find a place to live.”

While Bruce hadn’t really expected much out of it, the next round of places Tony showed him were considerably more likely. All apartments in the area. All for rent.

Still probably a godawful idea, but Bruce couldn’t bring himself to say no to him. He just wasn’t sure if it was because he was selfish or selfless.

* * *

It took several weeks before they settled on an apartment. Two bedrooms, shared bathroom, decent living space, and close enough to campus that Bruce felt comfortable making the commute, and not obscenely out of Bruce’s proposed budget. Even if it was still more than he’d like.

Apparently ‘pet friendly’ had become important to Tony at some point, because he was adamant that they find a place that accepted cats and wouldn’t charge them an arm and a leg for it. But they’d found an apartment that’s rent didn’t make Bruce cringe, and they were set to move in early December.

Granted, that was still a month away, so they were still sharing a room with beds that definitely didn’t fit two people, which was becoming more and more of a problem.

Bruce sighed when a completely sober, but apparently exhausted Tony collapsed on top of him at… two in the morning, apparently.

“You know, you have to walk by the showers to get here. It wouldn’t hurt to use them,” he commented, nose wrinkling at the overwhelming scent of sweat and engine oil. Worse than usual, he thought.

“I’ll do it in the morning,” Tony grumbled, nuzzling into Bruce’s neck.

He had to close his eyes, making sure to get himself under control before cupping the back of Tony’s head. It was fine. This was fine. The awkward situation where Tony had tried to get into his pants hadn’t been repeated, and he had no reason to suspect it might happen again, especially when Tony hadn’t been drinking. Granted, he did tend to try and overwork himself when he was stressed, so there was still the slight chance of Tony going off in a different way.

Bruce waited for Tony to settle in fully, but made sure that his breathing hadn’t completely evened out before he spoke again. “You’re home late. Is everything ok?”

There was a little grumbling as Tony let his lips rest on Bruce’s throat before deciding  _ that _ was where he was going to be comfortable. “I’ve apparently got to go back to New York for the weekend, and I really just want to stay here and work.”

He hummed sympathetically, fingers rubbing at the bottom of Tony’s hairline and trying not to get distracted by the way Tony’s mouth moved. “Not excited to go see your parents? Or is it because you’re so close to being done that you just want to wait it out?”

Tony squirmed a bit until he was comfortably splayed right on top of him with his legs loosely bracketing Bruce’s hips. “Does it sound ungrateful if I say both? Because it’s both. I mean, it’ll be nice to see my mom again, but I can’t say I’m too keen on seeing dear old dad. And Jarvis isn’t even going to be there, so what’s the point? They can wait to ‘debut me’ or whatever until after I defend my thesis.”

He sat up suddenly, jolting enough that Bruce automatically grasped Tony’s hips to steady him. As if Bruce needed to see and feel in full how close Tony was to straddling him, and that was definitely not something he should be thinking about right now. A blush crossed his cheeks as he hastily let go even though Tony looked as if he hadn’t even noticed.

“If I hide out here, will you answer my phone and tell whoever’s calling that I’m sick? No one’s going to believe me, but if it’s you… You’ve got a trustworthy voice. And face, but it’s not like they’ll be seeing it.”

Bruce grimaced, making a point not to shift or move, even if it was beyond uncomfortable. “You know I will. When have I ever actually said no to doing you favors?” he asked, finally settling his palms by the sides of Tony’s calves.

At least that seemed to make Tony happy, considering that he laid right back down on top of Bruce’s chest and nestled back into his shoulder. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” he mumbled, hands clenching in the threadbare fabric of Bruce’s shirt.

All he could really bring himself to do was hesitantly sweep a palm in large circles over Tony’s back, because in all honesty? Bruce thought it was probably the other way around.

Even though when it came down to it, the ten minute long conversation with Mr. Stane was probably one of the more stressful things he’d done in his life. Trying to make up symptoms for Tony to have was a lot more difficult when Tony was gesticulating vaguely enough that he had to keep breaking off to try and figure out what he was trying to say.

* * *

Moving day came blessedly fast, the week after finals so that neither of them panicked over their potential results immediately. Or, that was what they kept telling themselves but Bruce knew the actual reason was because they needed to clear out of the dorms fairly quickly.

“Remind me to never move again,” Tony said, dropping his box with a ‘thud’ loud enough that Bruce worried about its contents. “The third floor sounded like  _ such _ a good idea until right now.”

“You’ll like it more when you’re not carrying everything up here,” Bruce said, glancing down at what Tony had hauled up. “I really hope you didn’t break any of the glasses, because I’m not going out to buy more.”

Tony scoffed, nudging the box towards the kitchen with his foot. “It’s fine. I didn’t hear anything shatter, and we don’t really need sixteen of them anyways.”

While Bruce suspected that was true, he also didn’t particularly want to encourage him since he was pretty sure there was at least one more box of dishes to be carried up. “Be careful anyways, all right? I’d like minimal damage to our things.” Even though they were technically Tony’s things, considering Bruce had paid for very little of what they were sharing communally. Aunt Susan had been able to help with some of the bigger things for him, at least so that eased at least a little bit of Bruce’s guilt.

“Yes, mom,” Tony deadpanned, making Bruce roll his eyes.

It was nice, though. There wasn’t any real heat to Tony’s words, and Bruce would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the never ending banter that had developed between them. So Bruce made a point to nudge Tony back towards the door. “Just be glad we’re not carrying beds up here, all right? I don’t think I could listen to you complain about that while hauling mattresses up two flights of stairs.”

“Bruce, if I hadn’t paid people to deliver the beds, we’d be sharing a room. I’d agree to the heavy lifting once, but not twice.”

* * *

In retrospect, Bruce didn’t know why he thought that Tony was going to just stop taking up half of his bed just because he had a separate room now.  He’d already more than proven that he cared more about contact than comfort, since he’d actively sought out sharing a bed back when they had a pair of singles that really didn’t fit them.

“You know, if you were just going to stay in here you might as well have just gotten a one bedroom place,” Bruce said, pulling back the covers for the eighth time over the last two weeks.

“I feel like you would have said no if I even  _ suggested _ something like that.” Tony crawled up under the covers, tucking them around himself.

Bruce rolled his eyes and gently nudged Tony’s shoulder, ignoring the fact that he was bare-chested underneath the blankets. “Just shut up and get some sleep.”

In all seriousness, he wasn’t going to complain about it too much. Bruce had really grown fond of it over the year, and, well. Maybe he was a bit of a glutton for punishment like that, but he wasn’t about to turn Tony away.

Even though Tony apparently decided to stop sleeping with shirts on now that they were out of the dorms, and Bruce had to make a point not to stare at the tanned skin that was marred with only a few small scars along his chest and arms. Nothing horribly messy by the looks of it, and Bruce couldn’t help but be thankful of that. God knew that Bruce had enough scars for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm a little blown away by the response I've gotten already, and I'm so grateful to all of you who read/subscribed/left kudos/etc. I always get really nervous when posting a new work, so the fact that there's been no torches and pitchforks really sets me at ease.  
> I forgot to mention this last post, but I'm going to be updating this weekly on Thursday/Friday, depending on what time zone you're in. I shouldn't have many/any delays since I do most of my writing while I'm /at/ work, which lends itself to a lot of free time. So, good news all around, honestly (:


	3. Trying to Communicate

The fact that Tony had managed to successfully defend his thesis and didn’t even need to hang around MIT anymore didn’t seem to keep him from turning up on campus. Apparently, at least. Bruce didn’t ever  _ see _ him on campus, but Tony certainly waltzed through their door complaining about it often enough.

“He called me an asshole,” Tony proclaimed, door closing loudly behind him.

Bruce sighed, bowing his head. He should have expected this when he’d come home to an empty apartment after his therapy appointment. He’d even had enough time to carefully hide away the new prescription he’d been given, and Bruce had tried three different places before settling on the first one he chose.

“You call yourself an asshole on a regular basis. I call you an asshole at  _ least  _ once a month,” Bruce pointed out, not looking away from the mushrooms on cutting board.

Tony had insisted on doing the shopping this week, which meant a plethora of things had turned up in the cupboard that neither of them really knew what to do with, but Bruce couldn’t just let them go bad.

“You live with me; you’ve earned that right. Justin Hammer on the other hand has no right to call me an asshole when you and I both know he’s worse than I am.”

Bruce bit back a grimace, wiping his hands on his jeans before turning to face his roommate. It was going to be one of those nights, then. “You and I  _ also _ know you’re still kind of an asshole in general and about twelve times worse to Hammer than to everyone else.”

Not, in Bruce’s opinion, that he didn’t deserve it. There was something smarmy about the man that really put Bruce on edge, and the fact that he just seemed to mooch off the work of others instead of producing his own… Something about him made Bruce almost antsy, and he was more than happy to keep his distance instead of trying to figure out why.

But he didn’t want to help Tony justify it, because he was at least  _ trying _ to be a good person. And encouraging Tony to be a dick was definitely not something a good person would do.

“Betrayed by my own best friend. How could you do this to me?”

At least Tony seemed to be distracted enough to stop pacing the length of the kitchen to peer over what Bruce was cooking. “You know, most people  _ buy _ their sauces. Do we even have anything to put this on?”

Bruce tried to hide his relief, making a point to swat away Tony’s hand. If the tirade was really only going to be that short, it probably meant that Tony wouldn’t actually be trying to solder something in the kitchen again. 

Apparently, in spite of the amount of  _ actual _ lab space he probably had access to, Tony had this habit of  just improvising work areas with whatever was closest, and was at least relatively safe. Bruce now understood that he should have been grateful that Tony had only ruined his bed the one time, if the singed tabletop was anything to go by. They were probably going to lose the deposit before their lease was even half over.

“You picked up five different types of pasta. It just cooks a lot faster than this, so I figured it would be best to get it out of the way first.”

“So responsible,” Tony bemoaned, draping himself over Bruce’s back for a brief minute before straightening himself up to pick around the cabinets instead. “You’re shockingly good at this ‘living on your own’ thing. Even though you’re not technically living on your own.”

Bruce frowned a bit, unsure of what to make of that. Sure, he handled a lot of the organization, but he was pretty sure that, in spite of the disasters left in his wake, the reason they were actually doing so well was because of Tony. “Thanks, I think.”

“It’s a good thing. You’re kind of ridiculously levelheaded, you know that?”

He rolled his eyes, turning down the heat on the stove. “One of us has to be.”

When he’d first left for college, Bruce had assumed he was going to get overwrought over every single detail the second he arrived, but considering that he often had to keep Tony on track… It seemed to balance him, in a way. Not that he’d ever say that to Tony, since he’d probably take it the wrong way anyways. But privately, he thought they worked out pretty well together. Though maybe Tony was better for him than he was for Tony.

Bruce just didn’t want to think about it in those terms if he could help it.

* * *

Probably one of Bruce’s favorite things about living with Tony after he graduated was that he was generally sober when he was home. There was no longer that month long period of readjusting where Tony would get stir crazy until Bruce said something about it.

Although, he wasn’t entirely sure where he got the alcohol when he  _ did _ drink these days, but Bruce wasn’t about to ask questions he didn’t really want to know the answers to.

He knew, however, that when Tony left for some Stark Industries function, he was going to come back at least moderately tipsy, if he came back at all. Bruce had absolutely no idea how he managed to get so many taxis to cross state lines, but he was assuming that they got tipped obscenely well.

Why Tony insisted on living in Massachusetts when he had to go back to Manhattan at least once a month was beyond Bruce.

“You know you’re my favorite person, right?” Tony asked, face down on the blankets and still in his button up and tie. The vest and coat had been discarded at some point between the door and their room, but he was still wearing his shoes for some ungodly reason.

“Are you trying to bribe me or something?” Bruce asked in turn, automatically reaching over to scratch through Tony’s hair.

There was a soft, almost pained sound, and Bruce stopped instantly, removing his hand from Tony entirely just in case he made it worse. “Why do people always assume the worst in me?” Tony asked, not even picking himself up so that Bruce could try and gage his reaction.

Bruce sighed, returning to smooth through Tony’s hair, which had been gelled into compliance. “I’m teasing, Tony. You’re reading too much into things, and that’s generally my job.”

Tony made a show of butting his head into Bruce’s palm like an overgrown cat before crawling further up the bed so he was more or less curled up onto Bruce’s chest. “You’re my favorite. And I’m trying to be good to you, but I don’t think I’m doing it right.”

A grimace touched his lips, and Bruce was grateful that Tony wasn’t looking at him. What was he even supposed to do with that? He didn’t even know how to start offering comfort in general, in spite of all the practice living with Tony had given him. And this was one of those uncomfortable types of neediness that Bruce still wasn’t sure how to help with. “You’re doing just fine,” he tried to soothe, rubbing at the smooth skin just behind Tony’s ear and watching him melt. “Get some sleep, all right? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Maybe he heard some sniffling, but he was pretty sure Tony wasn’t actually crying. Or, he  _ hoped _ Tony wasn’t actually crying. At the very least Tony didn’t say anything, nor did it seem like he was trying to gather his words so Bruce just let him be.

Bruce continued playing with his hair until he felt Tony’s breath slow and even out with sleep. Even then, he didn’t stop, or curl under the covers himself. Instead, Bruce contented himself with drawing small circles on the back of Tony’s neck, only hesitating when he moaned and shifted further into Bruce’s lap.

A brief check showed that, yes, Tony was still asleep and his eyes were still dry, so Bruce continued. Even if doing it was probably going to keep him up all night. It wasn’t like he was tired anyways. Tomorrow was his day off; it would be fine.

So, he just kept sliding his thumb against the smooth skin at the top of his spine, steadfastly ignoring the shadow of a hickey just beneath the collar of his shirt. It wasn’t his business. Tony was allowed to go out and have fun. It wasn’t Bruce’s concern.

Except it bothered him. It got on his nerves in a way Bruce didn’t want to examine, because Tony wasn’t his to be jealous of. It wasn’t his place to want to mark up Tony’s neck, or see him go pliant after he was brought over the edge. And as much as that had become a common fantasy for him, Bruce couldn’t help but be overly aware of how much there was in between those two things that he didn’t even know how to think about.

God, Bruce was so fucked. And he couldn’t even blame Tony for it, because he’d agreed with all of his requests of his own volition.

Regardless, he stayed up all night to keep Tony calm, in spite of the fact that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if Bruce even left the  _ bed _ once he was out. It was the principle of the matter.

It felt like a small eternity later, but also like not enough time had passed, before Tony’s phone started going off, rattling against the nightstand. Loudly. Obnoxiously.

“Tony,” he coaxed gently, jostling his shoulder.

He got a sleepy groan in response, blinking up at Bruce almost blearily as if he had no idea  _ why _ Bruce would be waking him up.

Really, he wished he could ignore how cute it was.

“Your phone,” he said just as softly, smoothing over the line of Tony’s brow before he could think twice about it.

He hummed, burying himself back into Bruce’s stomach. “It can wait,” he insisted, words slurring in a way that had nothing to do with whatever Tony had been drinking last night.

“It’s loud,” Bruce retorted, internally grimacing at how fond he sounded.

“Thought you liked loud. I’ve heard stories…”

Heat instantly flooded his face as he tried to think of what stories Tony could have possibly heard. He’d slept with a grand total of two people, and there was no practical way for Tony to have heard anything from either of them. Hell, Bruce didn’t even remember one of their  _ names _ . “I think you’re still kind of drunk, Tony.”

Tony grumbled, hands clenching into Bruce’s shirtfront for a brief moment. “I’m not even hung over, Brucie-bear. Go back to sleep and stop freaking out, all right?”

“I should be saying that to you,” Bruce murmured. Though, he probably  _ should _ get some rest. Even if he probably would wake up in a few scant hours anyways out of habit.

* * *

It felt like Tony’s visits back to Manhattan became more frequent. Or maybe Bruce was just noticing it since he was actually in their apartment more. It was getting close to midterms again, and Tony had taken great joy in teasing Bruce about it last semester, but… 

Well. Lately, Tony had taken to spending a lot more time in his own room rather than Bruce’s or even the communal spaces that they shared. And while Bruce was hesitant to use the word ‘listless’, it seemed to fit best at the moment.

When he thought about it, Tony had started acting a little bit off around the time Tony got that phone call in the middle of the night that had rattled loudly on the nightstand. It wasn’t something that Tony ever talked about though, and Bruce wasn’t even sure who had been calling, since Tony had let it go through to voicemail.

Really, it almost felt like Tony was avoiding him, since he kept shambling through the apartment and rarely even stopping long enough for pleasantries.

“You know, you could talk about what’s bothering you,” Bruce said, typing up an essay in the kitchen while Tony rummaged around the freezer. It was probably the longest Bruce had seen him in the past week.

“Well we’re out of ice cream, so that’s definitely bothering me.”

God, even his voice sounded flat. Only now did Bruce realized just how animated Tony usually was, and that was honestly… a little pathetic on his part.

With a sigh, Bruce stood up and crossed the small room to loosely wrap his arms around Tony’s waist, giving him plenty of room to maneuver away if he wanted to. While he realized that he couldn’t actually make Tony tell him what it was… It didn’t make things any easier, and he vaguely wondered if this was how his aunt Susan  felt during those months that Bruce refused to talk to anyone. “I’ll pick some up for you on Tuesday,” he promised.

* * *

Little by little, Tony came back to himself. He was still much quieter than he’d been before, but at least he was more apt to curling up against Bruce while he studied, or coming into his bed about half the nights again.

Bruce would easily admit that he had really bad timing when it came to speaking. He just didn’t particularly anticipate starting this long-overdue conversation like this.

“What are we doing?” Bruce asked softly, absently combing through the short strands of hair on the back of Tony’s neck.

Tony picked his head up, lips kiss swollen from whoever he had been with earlier that night. God knows they didn’t get like that just from the line of chaste, close-mouthed pecks to Bruce’s shoulder.

“Well, I was cuddling you until you so rudely interrupted me,” Tony pointed out with a confused quirk to his brows. “Which is not a new thing between us, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Without even thinking about it, Bruce tugged gently at Tony’s hair, steadfastly ignoring how it made his eyes flutter shut for a brief moment. It was meant as a rebuke, not… not an encouragement. “You know what I mean, Tony.”

Tony sighed heavily, rolling over onto his back and putting space between them that Bruce immediately regretted. “Do we have to put a label on it? I like it, I’m pretty sure you don’t hate it; it’s just… It’s good, right?”

None of that really sat well with Bruce. The whole situation was mostly awkward when Tony wasn’t there, or wasn’t as close. Or, like this particular moment, when it was so painfully obvious that Tony was more or less freshly fucked.

“I’m not entirely sure what either of us is getting out of this.” Bruce slid up the bed until he was sitting up against the headboard, trying not to notice the tightening around Tony’s eyes. “I mean, you’re getting plenty of physical affection without me, so I just… I’m not sure what you’re doing.”

“I can’t tell if you were just super polite in calling me a slut or not.”

Bruce winced a bit at the wording, reaching over to gently shove at Tony’s shoulder. “It was me saying that you’ve got a lot of bed partners so I don’t know why we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing. I wasn’t even judging you for it, by the way.”

Tony let out a rather disbelieving hum, side-eying Bruce before returning his gaze back to the ceiling. “I mean, they don’t usually do the whole ‘cuddle after’ thing, and you never really seemed to mind up until right now--honestly, if it bugged you, you should have mentioned it earlier because now I feel like an asshole--so it seemed like a good thing we had going. If I could have gotten both out of you that would have been ideal, but I’m pretty sure I blew that out of the water when I tried to grab your dick after a party.”

The reminder of that sent a flare of heat rushing to his cheeks as Bruce resolutely looked away. “You said you didn’t remember a thing about that night.”

“Do you really think I want to relive the embarrassment? I don’t. I actually cried on your shirt in the middle of the night, and I didn’t even want to think about it while it was happening.”

“You…” Jesus. Now  _ Bruce  _ felt like kind of a dick. He thought he knew all of Tony’s tells and when he needed to stay up with him, but apparently he’d missed at least one occasion regardless.

It seemed like Tony misinterpreted that, considering how forced his leisurely stretch looked before he swung his legs off the side of the bed. “All right, I’m about ready to call it done on this heart to heart. Can we agree that it never happened so that I can salvage my dignity? Thanks; appreciate it.”

“Tony,  you can’t judge my interest in one drunken mishap six months ago,” Bruce said before he could think better of it. Almost immediately after hearing himself, he could feel the hot blush of near-humiliation creeping across his face and down his neck. Perfect. Just how he wanted to feel when they finally had this talk.

Granted, at least it seemed to bring Tony pause, his head cocked to the side as he tried to regard Bruce without actually turning to look at him. “So, there’s interest?”

Bruce had to fight the urge to automatically deny it, but what would really be the point of that? Hell, they’d already gotten to this point. May as well throw the rest of his caution to the wind, since it apparently wasn’t doing much good as it was. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have had as many issues sharing a bed with you if I wasn’t interested. Do you know how colossally inappropriate it felt to be jealous of the people who were sleeping with you when you were sixteen?”

Tony blinked a couple times, now fully facing Bruce with a bemused expression on his face. “You say that like you’re even marginally older than me. You do remember that you don’t even have half a year on me age-wise, right?”

A grimace touched Bruce’s lips as he focused his gaze on the ceiling. “Do I recognize that I’m irrationally anxious over five months? Yes. Does it help? Not really.”

He could hear Tony click his tongue before he nestled back up against Bruce’s side, easily radiating warmth.  “You’re stuck in your head a lot more than you act. I thought you had everything pulled together, and there you were freaking out because you were having emotions for a pretty young thing even though  _ you  _ were a pretty young thing. What else are you worrying over in that big brain of yours?”

“What, you mean aside from everything?” Bruce asked, aiming for teasing and falling a little bit off the mark. He shrugged a little bit, letting himself loop an arm around Tony’s shoulders, hoping the worst of this talk was over. “It’s just how my mind works, honestly. There’s not much that can be done about it. Really.”

Whether or not Tony accepted that as an answer, Bruce wasn’t entirely sure. He did, however, slowly edge over until he was half on Bruce’s chest again. “Ok, so what you’re saying is, you’d be totally on board if I kissed you?”

“Tony, you’ve been doing that for months. If I minded, I probably would have spoken up a long time ago” Granted, that almost certainly wasn’t the kind of kissing that Tony was currently asking about right now, and the thought of that… It was part of the grey area of things Bruce  _ wanted _ but always felt wrongfooted fantasizing about.

Tony seemed to hesitate, chin propped on his sternum with those wide dark eyes focused squarely on Bruce. “If you make this weird, I’m blaming you. Because I definitely asked before acting, so if you panic, that’s on you. Got it?”

“Why do I get the feeling I’m not the first roommate you’ve tried this on?”

Judging by the quickly averting eyes and the dark flush across Tony’s cheeks, that hit a lot closer to home than Bruce intended.

Bruce sighed, reaching down to ruffle Tony’s hair. “I won’t freak out on you,” he promised softly. And really, he was going to do his best. Tony didn’t need him overthinking this, especially if he’d messed up trying this before with someone else he’d lived with.

There was something almost petulant to the set of Tony’s mouth, though he glanced back almost speculatively before sitting up properly.

It was hard not to be hyperaware of how Tony moved. How his shoulders rolled back and his spine straightened up. The motion looked almost fluid. Well practiced, as if Tony was showing off.

The whole ‘Tony still didn’t sleep with a shirt on’ thing really just made it harder for Bruce not to watch him.

Tony’s voice was soft when he spoke next, almost unsure and that was definitely something Bruce wasn’t used to hearing from him. “So if I… You’d stop me if it’s weird, right? I mean…”

“It’s not going to be weird.”

It was probably going to be weird. Bruce was all too aware of that, and it was probably going to be weird because of him, but 

Well. Bruce didn’t mind going through a little weird to make Tony happy.

At least that seemed to strengthen Tony’s resolve, shoulders raising almost as if he was steeling himself for something. Bruce made a point to stay still, keeping himself as loose and relaxed as he watched Tony lean closer.

Granted, all the relaxing in the world couldn’t stop him from tensing up at the soft press of Tony’s lips against his own. It didn’t matter how simple the contact was, really. Or how warm Tony was, and the fact that Bruce could  _ feel _ the slightly chapped skin of Tony’s bottom lip, because Bruce had to force himself to stay still no matter how much he wanted to push for more right out of the gate.

It only lasted a few seconds before Tony pulled back, looking almost heartbreakingly vulnerable and unsure of himself. “All right?”

There was a couple moments of silence while he tried pulling together any kind of coherent sentence that sounded more reassuring than just ‘yeah’.

“I’m not going to run away screaming, if that’s what you’re asking,” Bruce said, finally straightening up himself. That alone almost put them nose to nose, and he tried not to think too much as he reached out to cup Tony’s jaw. There was the scratch of what might have been the beginnings of stubble against his palm, and it was hard to not urge Tony closer. He wanted it to be Tony’s choice, not just him following Bruce’s lead, because he had the vague suspicion that was how most of Tony’s less-than-innocent encounters went.

Though, that didn’t stop him from encouraging him. “Do it again?” Bruce insisted lowly, noticing how wide Tony’s pupils got at the demand.

Some of that impulsiveness that Bruce had thought faded showed itself full force when Tony surged forward, nearly sending them both backwards onto the bed before Tony could even seal their mouths together.

In a word, it was messy. Messy, with Tony trying to pry Bruce’s mouth open, and Bruce was pretty sure he hadn’t been kissed this desperately in his entire life which left him floundering for a few precious seconds. Tony had world’s more experience than he did. Of course he did; Bruce had known that going in. He just didn’t expect for it to be showcased so plainly while Tony’s teeth were insistently pressing into his bottom lip. While he was able to taste of something sweet on Tony’s tongue.

It took a little maneuvering for Bruce to be able to get a hand on Tony’s chest, gently pushing him back and definitely not noting the almost slick feeling of the scar beneath his palm. “Easy,” he chided once he actually had the space to speak. “I haven’t done this as much as you. I’m going to need a little more guidance than you throwing yourself at me if I want to get this right for you.”

Belatedly, Bruce noticed the dark red of Tony’s face, almost looking chagrined. If that was something that Tony and his endless bravado was capable of. He leaned in, chastely kissing Tony’s cheek even when he tried to angle for something more. “We’re fine, Tony. We can do this a little slower, right?”

Tony sighed, dropping his head to rest on Bruce’s shoulder. “It’s been over a year now. That’s plenty slow. This is the longest buildup I’ve had in my life and it’s killing me.”

Bruce scoffed, cupping the back of Tony’s neck and smoothing circles there with his thumb. “You’re being dramatic. You’ll be fine if we don’t fuck until the weekend.”

“It’s Monday. I might die waiting for it.”

Really, it was just too easy to kiss the top of Tony’s head instead of quipping right back at him. It was too easy to just pull him close, and hope that was enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Honestly, I can't get over how much you guys like it; it's a little surreal, you know? I appreciate all of you guys so much for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, etc. You're the best <3
> 
> I just wanted to say something real quick, since I feel like I should preface this? A lot of how I write Bruce's asexuality is similar to my own, and definitely not all ace people are going to have a lot of the issues I write him as having. It's a very varied spectrum.
> 
> With all that out of the way; thank you again and I'll see you again next week


	4. Less Than Effective Tinkering

Tony apparently took Bruce’s agreement to eventually sleeping with him to mean that he could be somehow _more_ tactile in the days leading up to it. Or, when they both assumed it was going to happen, though Bruce would put money on one or both of them chickening out at the last second.

But he doubted Tony was of that mindset, considering that he took to acting as if they were a particularly touchy couple.

“You should take a break,” Tony proposed, barely taking the time to toe off his shoes by the front door. “Or at least move everything so I can cuddle you while you work.”

And, fine, Bruce tended to give into Tony’s ‘demands’ with far too little fight, so he didn’t really give it much of a second thought before saving his notes and closing up his laptop.

It didn’t even take ten seconds before Tony was sliding gracefully into Bruce’s lap, arms looped around his neck.

He should be studying, really. Midterms might be over, but finals were coming up again and he really should be getting on top of that. But at the same time…

“Pretty sure this isn’t cuddling,” Bruce pointed out wryly, resting his hands on Tony’s thighs. Not even close to where would be considered salacious, but that didn’t seem to stop a grin from spreading across Tony’s lips.

“Pretty sure this is better.” He leaned down just enough to press their lips together.

At least now Tony didn’t immediately try to push his way into Bruce’s mouth. He kept it slow, letting Bruce get his bearings. At the very least he’d apparently figured out that Bruce needed some time to warm up, so to speak.

Which was why Bruce almost startled when Tony shifted back a bit and covered Bruce’s hands with his own.

“Come on. Give me a little more,” he insisted, dragging both of their hands up his hips. Under Tony’s guidance, Bruce’s hands curled around Tony’s waist, rucking up the soft fabric of his shirt in the process.

Of course Bruce would admit to feeling a little unsure. Unused to following Tony’s lead on anything, especially since he seemed to wander around aimlessly in regards to actual life. But in this area? He would admit that Tony had more experience.

Tony made a soft noise of contentment as Bruce hiked it up further, pressing his palm against the warm skin just below his ribs. “Yeah, like that,” Tony breathed, shifting over Bruce’s lap. Carefully keeping their hips apart, Bruce couldn’t help but notice.

“I don’t actually need instructions,” he said wryly. “I _have_ done this before. And you’re vocal enough that I can figure out your particulars on my own.”

There was a fair bit of bravado in that statement. He hadn’t done what Tony was hinting at often, but it was just touching, right? Something that he and Tony had been doing on different scales since they first started living together, and this was just a different level they were trying out.

Tony shifted impatiently, and Bruce thoughtlessly scraped his nails along the dip of his lower back. “My particulars?” Tony repeated, even as he arched gracefully.

It was probably a well practiced move, but it showed through gorgeously. There was only a moment of thought before he dragged Tony down by his shirt collar to kiss him.

Even just two days and Bruce felt a little more comfortable with the fervor that always seemed to be bubbling under the surface with Tony. Not to say he always knew how to match it especially when, like right now, Tony decided he needed to include teeth. The sharp scrape of them against Bruce’s lower lip had him pulling back.

“Easy,” Bruce reminded, gently tugging on Tony’s hair so that he could stop Tony from ducking in again.

Really, all he succeeded in doing was dragging a soft, startled cry out of Tony that had Bruce freezing exactly where he was. Fuck. Ok. There was absolutely no need to get hyper-focused on that sound.

It stuck with him though, his mind ‘helpfully’ repeating it back to him a couple times as Bruce stared up at him.

“Babe,” Tony choked out.

Abruptly he realized that his hold on Tony’s hair had steadily been tightening and he quickly let go as if he’d been burned. “Shit, sorry,” he mumbled, trying to ease away from Tony as best he could considering that he was literally under him and the couch didn’t exactly have a lot of maneuvering room.

For what it was worth, Tony seemed to be relatively unfazed. Maybe he blinked a little slowly as if he was getting his bearings back, but he seemed to relax fairly quickly. “I’m definitely not complaining if you want to do that again.”

Bruce scoffed, gently smoothing his palm over Tony’s waist. Maybe Tony thought he liked it, but the way he struggled to speak… It didn’t sound like enjoyment but Bruce would readily admit to being unsure. Regardless, it had definitely thrown Bruce off enough that he wasn’t keen to try it again. Or, he _hoped_ he wasn’t keen to try it again, at least.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said regardless, guiding Tony back down so that he could kiss his temple. An apology, really, though he doubted Tony would pick up on that. “Want me to keep going?”

There was a slightly discontented twist to Tony’s mouth as he once again cupped his hand over Bruce’s. “You don’t have to be so cautious with me. I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.” Slowly, he started to guide Bruce’s touch further down, wrapping around his hip. “Just assume that you’ve got the green light to try out whatever you want until then.”

The proposal sounded dangerous, in Bruce’s mind. To just offer himself up like that, even with the insistence that he would stop if he needed to, especially when he had no idea what Bruce might want.

Still, it felt easier to agree rather than to try and argue with Tony about the merits of that plan. “What I’m getting right now is that you’d very much like me to not stop, then.” Bruce tried not to think too hard as he dropped his hand to squeeze the top of Tony’s thigh.

Where he was very much able to feel his cock scant centimeters away, which was honestly a heady thought. If he shifted up just a little to the left… The thickness of the denim didn’t do much to hide that Tony was very clearly interested in what they were doing, even though Bruce himself was maybe half-hard at best. It was nerves, probably. He generally didn’t have any issues with getting excited if Tony was just _close_ to him.

“That’s about the gist of it, yeah.” Apparently proximity was enough to get that breathy quality into Tony’s voice, and Bruce filed that information away for later.

Just in case.

Bruce hummed to himself, wrapping his fingers firmly around the solid weight of Tony’s thighs, tucked neatly under the curve of his ass. It was probably close to the opposite of what Tony wanted him to do, but Bruce was pretty sure his nerve wasn’t up high enough for that. “If you say so.”

If Tony _did_ have a problem with it, he didn’t say anything and just let himself go almost pliant as he settled over Bruce’s legs. “I don’t know why I thought you’d be less careful. You’ve always been far too considerate of me.” Tony’s hips twitched almost impatiently, clearly trying to get something but he kept stopping himself before the movement could come to fruition.

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” he asked, sliding his hand so he could cup the soft curve of Tony’s ass instead, urging him to move forward. “You could use more people being considerate of you, from what I’ve seen. There’s a lot more ‘give’ in your life than ‘take’.”

Almost as if he was waiting for it, Tony crawled closer until he was hovering right over Bruce’s hips. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “I think my life is a lot more take than give, but all right big guy,” Tony teased.

As far as he knew, they were actually the same height. Similar builds. And Bruce pretended like he had no idea what that pet name might be referring to, since _Tony_ had no idea if they weren’t similar in that department as well.

“I was talking about your day to day life; not your bedroom habits.” As if to prove his point,  Bruce pressed his fingertips between his cheeks, grateful for the layers between their skin. It was easier to justify to himself not explicitly asking when he wasn’t explicitly touching. Hell, there was barely any give to the fabric, so Bruce could tell himself that it was a non-issue so long as Tony didn’t tense up even a little bit.

It sounded like Tony attempted to scoff, though it broke off into a shuddery sigh as his eyes slipped shut, head falling back to expose the long line of his throat. “I think you’re going to like my bedroom habits now that you’re a part of them.”

While that was very true, Bruce didn’t actually want to dignify that with a response. “I think you’re ego is big enough without me stroking it for you, Tony.”

Tony laughed, voice a bit higher than usual. “I’ll let you stroke something else, though.”

“Not yet.” It felt almost abrupt when Bruce edged his hands back to where it was a little more proper. Then again, it also felt like a knot loosened in his chest when he was back to drawing small circles against Tony’s waist with the well worn AC/DC shirt that honestly looked older than both of them acting as a barrier.

Tony almost seemed to slump, leveling a mild glare at Bruce. “You know, the longer you drag it out, the worse your nerves are going to be about it. You’ve already gotten the virginity thing out of the way. What’s left to be worried about?”

“You mean aside from the fact that we live together, and we’re barely halfway through our lease yet?”

“You didn’t even sign. You can leave if you decide it’s weird.” There was something almost acidic in his voice that brought Bruce pause.

It was too sharp a reaction, really. Hell, he was still holding onto Tony and hadn’t even indicated that he should maybe move.

Bruce gently squeezed Tony’s waist, managing to straighten himself up beneath him. “All right, first of all, I’m not leaving. I don’t know why you’re even thinking I would.”

That almost petulant pout was back, and Bruce was beginning to think he didn’t even realize when he was doing it. It was endearing of course, and Bruce imagined that he tended to use it whenever he was trying to get his way, but…

Bruce sighed, cupping the side of Tony’s neck. Faintly, he could feel the fluttering of his pulse beneath the skin. “I don’t want to mess this up, all right? It’s important to me, and I don’t want you to think it was a bad idea for us to try this. That’s what I’m worrying about. And that’s why I want to do this a little slower.”

Silence hung between for almost uncomfortably long before Tony seemed to give up, leaning into Bruce’s hand. “I can’t even be mad at you. You’re so fucking _considerate_.”

The tone that he used for that word threw him off a little bit. While he sounded a hell of a lot less bitter… “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

Tony more or less flopped down onto Bruce, heedless of the fact that Bruce could now feel the hard line of Tony’s cock against his hip. “It’s irritating, but no. I’m just not sure what to do in the face of it sometimes.”

It would have been so easy to duck down to press his lips against Tony’s neck, like he’d absently thought about doing since they’ve known each other. But he was pretty sure that trying that, especially after just slowing them down, would result in frustration on both ends so he refrained. “That’s kind of sad, Tony,” he admitted, tucking his hand under the hem of Tony’s shirt just to touch the warm skin of his lower back. He could almost feel the ridge of his spine with how Tony was hunched over. “I don’t even feel like I’m offering you the bare minimum sometimes.”

Tony seemed to content himself with nestling in, legs still bracketing Bruce’s hips. “If you talk like that, you’re just going to depress us both, and I don’t want to deal with that kind of emotional whiplash on top of blue balls.”

There was a lot he could have said to that. There was a lot he probably _should_ have said to that, including the apology he was currently biting back because he just _knew_ that Tony wouldn’t like hearing it. At the end, all he really did was continue to hold Tony close until he eventually got up to get them an early dinner, brushing off Bruce’s concerns like they were nothing.

* * *

True to Bruce’s prediction, the weekend passed by without either of them stripping down fully in bed. Honestly, in spite of all of Tony’s bravado, he seemed almost skittish about it now which just served to make _Bruce_ skittish about it.

Tony actually seemed almost hesitant about instigating anything now, even things that he’d done easily within a month of knowing each other, and Bruce couldn’t help but feel a little bit responsible for that.

“Are you coming to bed?” Bruce asked upon finding Tony tinkering with a toaster around midnight. In spite of the air conditioning that was already turned on in early-April, Tony was hunched over the counter in little more than loose sleep pants and a tattered wifebeater.

“I’m doing something,” Tony said, not lifting his eyes from the innards of the appliance. “I’ll just take the spare tonight so I don’t wake you up when I’m done. Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s hard not to worry when it’s late and you look like you aren’t even thinking about getting some sleep,” Bruce pointed out. He settled into one of the kitchen chairs, pulling his knees to his chest while he watched Tony work.

It wasn’t something he did often. It wasn’t like Bruce ever had reason to be in the engineering department when Tony had actually been a student, and usually by the time Bruce got home from classes, Tony had already given up on whatever he was fiddling with.

More often than not, if Bruce ever saw Tony working on anything it was when he was tinkering with something on his laptop, which tended to comprise of a lot of muttering and rapid-fire typing.

“You’re worrying over nothing, you know,” Tony said as he blindly groped through the mess of tools to his left.

“I’m not even sure what you’re doing right now. There’s nothing wrong with our toaster.”

With a sigh, Tony finally looked up at him, aiming a withering look at him that he’d seen him shoot Hammer when he was being particularly dense.

It was kind of hard not to shrink away while he was on the receiving end of it.

“That would be the reason that I’m not looking at ours.” Rolling his eyes, Tony started prodding at something inside. “The landlady’s having issues with hers, so I told her I’d see what I could do. She promised cookies if I can fix it.”

Bruce swallowed thickly, trying to keep his shoulders from hunching in. He wasn’t used to being treated so dismissively by Tony. Even if that probably wasn’t what he was actually doing right now, it sure as hell felt like it. “I’m worrying anyways, you know. It doesn’t stop just because you tell me that there’s nothing to worry about. You’ve been acting weird since February.”

This time he got an outright glare for a split second. “I told you to stop me if it was weird. Clearly you think it’s weird, so I’m stopping. Sorry for taking some initiative.”

His chest felt tight, and Bruce wasn’t sure if it was anger or something a little closer to fear. Either way, he looked away to tamp it down before he even started to think about what to say in response. “If it was weird, I would have told you. Does it make me nervous, yes. But I told you that at the beginning, so I don’t know why you’ve been almost treating me like a leper since Thursday.”

“I haven’t been ‘treating you like a’-- oh fuck.” Tony hissed, pulling his hand out of the toaster sharply. He examined it for a split second before shaking it out with a grimace. “Ok, that could’ve gone better.”

In spite of the tension in the room, Bruce was quick to get up, sidestepping Tony in lieu of grabbing the first aid kit under the sink. He wasn’t about to keep arguing when Tony was potentially hurt. “It feels like you have, then. Let me take a look at that.”

“It’s not even--oh, never mind.” Tony had the decency to look embarrassed, holding out his bleeding hand to Bruce. “I can handle it myself, you know.”

Judging by the amount of blood, Bruce probably wouldn’t leave it alone even if he _did_ think that Tony could patch it up on his own. “I probably have more practice at this than you do,” Bruce said, grabbing Tony’s wrist and dragging him to the sink so he could at least rinse off the worst of it.

Tony jerked back when the water started rushing over the cut, and Bruce felt instinctively awful for it even though he knew that it was the right thing to do. “I have plenty of practice, thank you. You don’t even do practical work; how would you be better at this than me?”

“Do you really want to ask that right now?” Bruce asked, leveling a sharp look at Tony himself. “It’s on your hand. Do you actually want to do it yourself or will you let me help you for once?”

There was definitely something sullen in the set of Tony’s mouth, but he didn’t speak even try to pull back.

That was probably about as much of an acceptance as he was going to get, and Bruce wasn’t about to about to ask for a verbal confirmation just in case.

He let out a slow breath, waiting for the water start to run more clear than pink before flipping it off and reaching for the kitchen towel to dry it off.

The neat slice along Tony’s middle finger stayed bloodless for mere seconds before welling right back up again, leading Bruce to just accept that he was probably ruining the cloth as he wrapped it around the injury. “Hold that, please,” he said softly, more apologetically than strictly necessary.

At least Tony seemed just as drained of frustration, since he didn’t even put up a token complaint as he clamped down to hopefully staunch the bleeding. “I’ve had worse, you know.”

Bruce hummed noncommittally, picking through the first aid kit for gauze pads and medical tape. It was too big for a bandage, and he was pretty sure that Tony would try to pick that off before tomorrow morning anyways. Not that he probably wouldn’t end up doing the same with this, but it at least ticked one of the boxes.

Most of Bruce’s experience with patching up injuries came from blindly trying to cover up his own in the middle of the night. There was a lot of using Scotch tape to hold cotton pads over injuries, pressing makeshift ice packs over bruises, and tying old shirts around cuts because he didn’t have a bandage big enough.

It definitely wasn’t the kind of thing he wanted Tony to know about, but at least Bruce knew how to deal with this kind of thing without even a hint of squeamishness.

“Let me see,” he requested once he got everything out and at least somewhat organized.

He didn’t spare a look at much else as he set to treating Tony’s hand. Antibacterial cream got smoothed on quickly before Bruce pressed the gauze over the long, thin cut.

“Keep this in place,” he said, reaching for the medical adhesive.

“I can do it myself,” Tony repeated, although he didn’t even seem to hesitate before holding onto the pad.

Bruce sighed, tearing off a strip of the tape and wrapping it around his finger. “I never said you couldn’t. But it’s easier on my nerves if you let me help you.”

“Your nerves are very demanding of me.”

He scoffed, finally ready to accept that it was as patched up as possible for right now. “Well, you’re stuck with me for the next three months minimum, so there’s not much you can really do about it at this point. It’s too late to get rid of me.”

Tony pulled back, peering at his wrapped up hand with furrowed brows before looking at Bruce instead. Then, almost as if he was making up his mind about something, leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. Now go to bed, all right? I’m going to try and get this finished.”

Part of him wanted to try and get Tony to go to sleep as well, but Bruce was pretty sure that was a lost cause. And he really didn’t want to fight. “Yeah. All right. You try and do the same at some point, though. Be careful.”

There was a brief flash of a smile that looked at least mostly real before Tony waved him off. “I’m always careful, babe. Don’t worry about me.”

Really, it was that kind of attitude that made Bruce worry _more_ , but he wasn’t about to say that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again (: This chapter is serving as a reminder that it's still slow burn, and that even if they talked it out, sort of, they still have a ways to go before they actually manage to do the do.
> 
> Per usual, thanks to everyone reading, dropping kudos, and especially leaving comments. You guys are all the best, and it seriously makes my day every time I get an email notification <3


	5. Different Approaches

May had come to mean two things to Bruce. Finals, and Tony’s birthday. Well, that and the upcoming end to their lease, but Tony had decided to renew that already, so he was trying not to worry too much about that part. Just like he was trying not to worry about putting his own name on the lease as well.

Tony had started staying in his own room a little more often again, in spite of the fact that they had at least mostly ironed out the fact that Bruce wasn’t going to just throw him down and fuck him like Tony apparently wanted.

Like Bruce wanted too, if he was being completely honest with himself.

It was just… Something always felt off about it, to him. Something he couldn’t put his finger on, and he was worried that when he finally did manage to get himself together enough to actually sleep with Tony, it was going to leave him with that same strange dissatisfaction that plagued his previous experiences.

Which didn’t make much sense, considering how often he’d even vaguely thought about it, and how often he’d gotten himself off to the mere idea of seeing Tony like that. But trying to imagine the reality of it...

Vaguely he might be hoping that if he put it off long enough he’d figure out why he felt so wrong-footed about the whole thing.

That aside, he couldn’t deny that Tony was still giving him far more space than he usually tended to, and Bruce learned quickly to take what affection he still got from Tony, even though it meant he didn’t have as much time to study. Even if it frustrated him. Even if he sometimes felt a little resentful of it.

“You’re being so distant,” Tony complained, resting his feet against Bruce’s hip as he sprawled across the couch.

Bruce suppressed a sigh, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Only now could he feel the strain of staring at his computer all day, and he  _ really _ should look into getting some reading glasses pretty soon.

But his first final was in the morning, and he really didn’t have time for this. The headache or Tony. It just figured that he’d want to talk about it at the most inconvenient time. “You’re the one who stopped coming to our room at night, so I’m not sure where you’re getting that impression from.”

“Because I always have to take initiative, right.”

A socked foot gently nudged against Bruce’s laptop, and he was quick to bat it away. “Can this wait?” he asked, instantly regretting the near-acidity of his own voice. It sounded too much like his father’s for a brief second.

Apparently that was enough to get Tony to back off, expression going horribly blank in less than a second as he withdrew back to his side of the couch, knees close to his chest.

It made him sick to watch. Even worse to know it was his fault. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, shoulders curling in. “Right now is a bad time. Can we talk about this next week, please?”

There was something stiff in Tony’s movement as he stood up, and Bruce tried not to watch with anything more than his periphery. “Just forget about it. It’s fine. I’m just gonna...”

“Tony--”

“It’s  _ fine _ ,” he said, cutting Bruce off without even turning to look at him. “Just keep reading your book; I’m going out for a bit. Don’t wait up.”

Guilt had already started gnawing in his chest, and Bruce damn well knew that he probably would still be on the couch when Tony got back. He couldn’t even bring himself to move, much less look up when he heard the door click shut.

The apartment always seemed unnervingly quiet without Tony around. Usually Bruce could appreciate the reprieves for a couple hours before he had to find something to fill the figurative space the silence created.

This time, though, Bruce left it as it was even when the clock approached midnight and still not so much as a text from Tony had come through. It felt right that he shouldn’t be perfectly at ease. As if he deserved it, even though he knew he wouldn’t be truly comfortable even if he  _ did  _ have some sort of noise in the background. A little extra discomfort was well-earned, in his opinion.

Finally, close to one in the morning, he heard a key scratching around the lock, and Bruce sighed. He was probably less than sober, and he couldn’t even claim he was surprised by that. Of course Tony went to find a way to drink. What else would keep him out that long? And what else did he do when he was upset?

After almost a minute, the door finally opened, and Tony blinked almost blearily at Bruce before even stepping inside. He looked like hell, if Bruce was being honest. Red-rimmed eyes, rumpled clothes… It even looked like someone had been tugging at his hair, but there was none of that smug, satisfied look that indicated that he’d been with someone. “Have you even moved since I left?”

While he definitely had, Bruce still could feel embarrassment warm his cheeks as he dropped his gaze back to his laptop. “Trouble sleeping,” he lied, continuing to scroll through his notes for the umpteenth time.

If he was lucky, maybe he actually absorbed some of the information just by looking at it, because Bruce wasn’t sure if he’d actually managed to properly read any of it since Tony walked out six hours ago.

Tony didn’t seem to want to dignify that with a response, and Bruce could hear him fumbling the lock closed again. “I don’t know if we’re both bad at this or if I’m just  _ exceptionally _ bad at it.”

It took one or two mental repetitions for Bruce to understand through the slurring, but it was hard not to wince once he  _ did _ . There wasn’t a lot that Tony could be talking about, and this was probably not a good time to play dumb and hope for the best. “It’s not you. You’re doing fine, Tony.” He hesitated before closing out of his notes and shutting his computer off. He’d probably have more luck getting Tony to settle down if it looked like Bruce was going to do the same. “Go to sleep, all right? We can talk about it in the morning.”

“Every time you say that, we end up not talking about it in the morning. I know you too, you know.”

His brow furrowed a bit, unsure where that jab was coming from. “I never implied that you didn’t.”

“You didn’t have to.” Tony wandered into the kitchen, opening up cabinets until he found what he was looking for.

Bruce could hear the water tap turn on, and made a mental note to make sure to refill his glass after Tony went to bed. While he’d never actually dealt with Tony’s hangovers, he didn’t particularly want to make this the first one.

It was a few minutes before Tony appeared in the main room, looking a lot more somber than Bruce thought he’d ever seen him, even if he didn’t look entirely steady on his feet. “Sometimes it feels like you treat me like a kid you’re looking after. I’m not. You know I’m not. But sometimes you kind of act like that anyways and it’s irritating. I’m ahead of you, you know. I already have my degrees and my name’s the one on the current lease. But you still fret and try to baby me like you’re my nanny.”

Hearing Tony say that… It hurt. It hit entirely too close to home, because he  _ knew _ that he did that. Of course he did; the amount of trouble Tony liked to get himself into… How irresponsible he could be?

“I know you’re not a kid, Tony,” he said. And that was true too, honestly. He’d seen it before, when Tony walked into a room as if the entire building belonged to him. When he was strong, in his element, and clearly a thousand times brighter than anyone else there.

When he so obviously was more than just ‘the son of Howard Stark’.

Bruce tried to swallow it down. Now wasn’t the time for his more than complicated feelings. “Sorry.”

For several seconds, Tony just looked at him with dark eyes that Bruce couldn’t even begin to read. Then he sighed, shaking his head as he turned on his heel towards his own, rarely used room. “Try and get some sleep yourself, Brucie. You’re not going to do well on your exams if you stay up all night.”

* * *

Things around the apartment were definitely more stilted throughout the entirety of finals week, and Bruce was pretty sure his performance suffered from it.

They had gotten along so well before. Slight bickering had happened, but Bruce wasn’t used to actually fighting with Tony. And the last several months just felt like a long, drawn out fight that neither of them wanted to actually deal with, so it kept dragging on between pockets where they seemed to do well together.

“Can we talk now?” Bruce asked when he came home from his last test of the semester.

Tony managed to push himself back enough that his head hung over the arm of the couch so he could actually look at Bruce, and--

Ok, yeah, it was stupidly cute and Bruce was getting really tired of noticing those kinds of things about him. But it was hard  _ not _ to notice that when Tony was sitting around watching old Bill Nye episodes in his pajamas in the early afternoon.

“Is there something for us to talk about?” he asked, sliding back onto the couch and returning his gaze back to the jarring visual effects.

It was probably an out. Or, more likely, it was Tony being passive aggressive but Bruce was admittedly tired of whatever it was they were doing. Especially since summer semester didn’t start for another few weeks, which meant they’d be around each other a lot more until then. “I think there is, yeah. Can we…”

Tony sighed dramatically, muting the television before looking back at Bruce. “So you have time for me now? Yeah, all right,” he added before Bruce could actually feel the sting of his first comment. “What’s on your mind?”

Since Tony seemed content to just take up the entire couch, Bruce found himself awkwardly settling into one of their seldom-used chairs by the table instead. “You’ve been acting weird for months now. And I know whatever it is we’re trying isn’t helping, but I don’t know what  _ will _ help because you’re not telling me what the problem is.”

There was a pause while Tony took the time to scrutinize Bruce. “We’re back to the ‘you’re treating me like a kid’ thing. You don’t have to solve my issues for me. I can do that all on my own.”

“I’m not treating you like a kid; I’m treating you like a friend. I can want to help without babying you.”

Tony rolled his eyes, before turning onto his side in a different sprawl. “I can handle my own problems, Brucie. It doesn’t involve you.”

There was something frustrating about that. Fine, yes, it didn’t directly involve him. Of course it didn’t; they led pretty separate lives outside of the apartment. But indirectly? “It involves me when you won’t even talk to me. You moved out with me for a reason, and while I can’t figure it out for the life of me, you did.”

He hesitated a minute, pushing a hand through his hair. Maybe he should have just left this alone. It wasn’t like this was going to actually change anything. “If it’s because I’m bad at the whole… more than friends thing, I’m sorry. I’m trying. It’s just hard when it doesn’t feel like you want me to half the time.”

Tony kept his gaze trained firmly on him, almost impassive in how he was regarding Bruce. It was unnerving, to say the least. “I’m not entirely sure why you moved out with me either, you know. Half the time it seems like you actually like me, but the rest of the time it feels like you think you’re obligated to stick around. Which, I’m not going to lie, it’s a pretty shitty feeling from my end.”

“I wouldn’t move out with you if I didn’t like you. It stresses me out how much I like you.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” Tony huffed, turning around so that his back was to Bruce. “You don’t talk shit out with me. And when I try to talk shit out, you have this habit of brushing me aside until it’s convenient, and that’s not working for me.”

Bruce had to take a second to not immediately lash out because honestly? That was what it felt like Tony was doing right now. Brushing him aside and deflecting because he was upset.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, in that case,” he said eventually, once he was sure that he felt even-tempered enough. “You’re sending me a lot of mixed signals and I’m not a mind-reader, Tony. I don’t know what’s bothering you unless you actually tell me.”

“But would it kill you to ask? Half the time it feels like I’m the one doing all the work in this, and it’s really fucking tiring.”

Bruce didn’t know what to say to that. He  _ should _ say something to that, because how the hell did Tony think he did all the work here?

“I’m going to bed,” he announced instead, keeping his eyes firmly on anything that wasn’t Tony.

“It’s two in the afternoon, and you’re the one who wanted to talk.”

Concentrated effort went into keeping his voice even as he sidestepped the couch on the way to his room. “This isn’t even  _ talking _ . This is arguing, and it’s not getting us anywhere.”

He didn’t even get the door closed in time to shut out Tony’s last retort, and Bruce couldn’t help but feel more than slightly bitter about that fact.

“Yeah. Keep running, then. It’s not like you’re proving me right by doing that.”

* * *

Bruce wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself, if he was being honest. He didn’t have any work that needed doing. None of his books sounded good. There wasn’t really anything that he wanted to watch, either.

Absently, he wondered when his time came to revolve so thoroughly around Tony. He wondered how he didn’t actually come to realize it until now, when he couldn’t think of anything to say to him. More importantly, when he knew Tony didn’t want much to do with him, at least for the moment.

It was off putting to realize, actually. Bruce didn’t think they’d ever really had an active argument that lasted more than a few hours, so this was just… It felt wrong.

Still, in spite of how much he wanted Tony to make an appearance, he still tensed up when he heard his door click open hours later. Well after the sun had started to go down.

He wasn’t sure if his nerves were due to old memories, or if it was just a universal thing. It was just Tony, after all. It had to be. The door to their apartment hadn’t audibly opened, so it wasn’t like there was anyone else there.

Even without looking over at him, Bruce knew. He felt the bed sink under the added weight of Tony, and automatically started pulling the covers back. Granted, he didn’t really get that far, considering that Tony curled up right on top of him before Bruce could even sit up.

“I hate being mad at you.” Tony sighed, almost nestling right into Bruce’s neck before changing his mind and propping his chin on his chest instead. “So I think this answers if it’s just me who’s bad at this whole thing. You’re not that great either.”

“Tony--”

“I said from the start I’m bad at the actually talking thing. You had ample warning,” he interrupted. Without even a bit of hesitation, he reached up and covered Bruce’s mouth with his palm. “We’re doing this one at a time, ok? I think that’s how they usually do this on those tv shows.”

It was really hard not to pull Tony’s hand aside and ask exactly  _ what _ tv shows he was talking about. While he had a pretty good idea, there was something satisfying about the thought of Tony admitting that he’d watched something like Dr. Phil at any point in his life.

This wasn’t the time for it though. Instead, he simply nodded, staying as he was as much as he wanted to just wrap his arms around Tony as if that would make everything better.

Clearly it didn’t make things better.

When Tony seemed satisfied that this was going to go how he planned, he moved his hand away and placed it under his own chin. “A lot of this feels one-sided, you know. Or non-existent.”

Of course Bruce wanted to contest that. What part of what they were doing was one-sided? Aside from a lot of the financial issues, or the fact that Bruce was usually the one offering direct comfort, at least. Things that Tony didn’t seem to mind or even acknowledge.

Tony scooted down on the bed, almost pressing his face into Bruce’s stomach. “My butler died a while back. Well, I say butler, but he honestly did most of the parenting around my house. And he passed a few months ago, and you never really… I mean, I know I’m good at the whole ‘brave face’ thing, but you kind of just… It was like you didn’t notice anything was wrong.”

Bruce didn’t even need to think back to what Tony was talking about. When Tony started going back to New York more often and didn’t want to talk.

And he didn’t want to  _ make _ Tony talk, but he’d tried… He thought he’d tried, at least. Maybe it wasn’t enough. Either way, it definitely opened up a sickening pit of guilt in his stomach that he knew he was going to wallow in for the next several months.

That was something major Bruce had missed. Of course he knew something was wrong. Tony hadn’t been acting right, and he  _ knew _ that, but he just...

Heedless of Bruce internally berating himself, Tony shrugged a bit before he went on. “And on top of that, sometimes I realize that we don’t really know each other. I mean, we’ve lived together for over a year now and I don’t know your favorite color. I don’t know what kind of music you listen to, or if you listen to music at all. Do you know how unsettling that is?”

That, Bruce was going to assume, was his cue to actually talk. That didn’t mean he even knew what to say, because… Fine. Maybe they didn’t know a lot of the finer details about each other. And Bruce knew damn well he kept a lot more to himself than Tony did, but… But how much did that actually matter?

Slowly, trying to jostle Tony as little as possible, Bruce sat up and watched as Tony just shifted so that his head was in Bruce’s lap instead.

“I know you like to be the little spoon, though. And that you talk in your sleep, which is baffling considering how much you also talk when you’re awake. You like to tinker with things, but you don’t have the patience for them if you can’t figure it out quickly. You always get coffee with too much sugar, and I’m surprised it hasn’t killed you yet. You like when people rough you up a bit, but you hate seeing others get hurt. I think that counts for more than favorite color.”

Tony hummed contemplatively, but didn’t make any move to comment. Likely trying to afford Bruce the same space to talk that he had.

So he sighed, gently combing through Tony’s hair as he gathered his thoughts. “I used to see a couple therapists, back when I was younger. And they would try to make me talk about everything. I resented it. I resented  _ them _ , so when you didn’t want to talk to me about what was on your mind, I let it be. I figured you’d tell me what was bothering you when you wanted to, because I wasn’t about to try and make you. I didn’t want you to resent me for that.”

Tony’s hands curled  into Bruce’s sleep pants. “So we’re coming at this from completely different viewpoints, is what you’re saying.”

“It’s not strictly a bad thing, but that’s what it sounds like.”

Tony’s lips twisted almost petulantly for a second before smoothing out. “What were you in therapy for?”

That wasn’t the path he wanted Tony to pick for this conversation. He opened his mouth, intending to divert or maybe even ask to deal with it later, but--

Wasn’t that exactly what had been bothering Tony to begin with? The fact that Bruce tried to avoid talking about so many things, either because the timing was wrong or, in this case, because it wasn’t pretty to talk about?

Apparently Tony took his silence as a non-answer, since he continued. “I’m guessing it has something to do with the pills you’re hiding from me. Also, your name is actually  _ Robert _ ? How did I not know that? I feel like this should have come up at some point.”

“No one calls me that, and I’m not hiding them.” And he wasn’t. Not… not really. He just liked to keep them in a drawer and only take them when Tony wasn’t around. “How do you even know about them?”

He felt more than saw Tony shrug, shoulder momentarily digging into his leg. “I was looking for your laptop. Which you apparently keep under the bed for some reason, but it made more sense for you to keep it somewhere that wasn’t the floor.”

“Your laptop is better than mine. Why did you--”

“I was looking for something and didn’t want it traced back to me. You’re fine, no legal trouble or anything.”

Bruce pressed his lips together in a firm line. His laptop, as old as it was, was password protected. Which meant that Tony had apparently not only looked through his things, but hacked into his computer for… Something. Something Bruce didn’t really want to know about, because at least if it came down to it and he did end up in trouble, he could legitimately say he had absolutely no idea.

If he had found this out at any other time, Bruce would probably lecture Tony about how that was  _ his _ and just because he paid most of the rent didn’t mean he could go through Bruce’s things when it suited him.

As it was… He just wanted to be done fighting with Tony. If it came up again, he’d deal with it.

“My mom passed when I was young. That’s why I was… It has nothing to do with the medication,” Bruce said. It wasn’t a lie, really. It was definitely a different prescription than the last ones had given him. It just wasn’t the entire story.

Because really, Tony didn’t need to know the entire story. No one needed to know the entire story. More often than not, Bruce pretended the entire story didn’t actually  _ exist _ , since god knew he left out a lot of the details when he had to go to court.

“So what do you have them for, then? It’s an anti-anxiety, right?”

Of course Tony looked it up. He didn’t even know why he was almost surprised by that. “Mostly, yeah. It’s not a big deal.”

“I didn’t say it was.” Tony reached up to grasp Bruce’s hand, squeezing it gently before sitting up to turn on the bedside lamp.

Bruce had to blink a few times to get used to the yellow light that bathed the room, having gotten used to the near-dark they had been talking in.

Tony bit his lip, glancing down at their hands before starting to pull away. “We’re ok, right? I mean, we’re…”

Without even letting himself start to overthink it, he tightened his hold on Tony’s hand. “We’re fine. I promise.”

And really, they’d have to be. If nothing else, he really didn’t want to lose Tony so Bruce was just going to do whatever it took to keep him around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello (: Just here to say thank you for reading, and that you're all great. Also that concrit is appreciated, and to remind everyone that neither of them are good at healthy communication yet, but they are young and figuring it out as they go


	6. Chapter 6

Blessedly, the fighting seemed to stop after their talk. Bruce was still walking on eggshells a bit but Tony seemed to actually settle in after that night. Things were once again quiet around their apartment.

Maybe a little too quiet, when Bruce thought about it. It almost seemed odd how little fanfare Tony’s eighteenth birthday entailed. He’d stayed in their apartment, answered a handful of phone calls, and seemed to content himself with fiddling with their toaster until around nine when he scrambled to his own room so he could do a video chat.

Bruce had been involved in said chat for about fifteen seconds, which gave him a very odd introduction to Rhodey considering his camera seemed to be spotty at best. The imaging was so grainy that Bruce couldn’t say with any certainty what he looked like, but he appreciated the fond but long-suffering tone of voice he adopted when talking to ‘Tones’. And the even more long-suffering tone he adopted when Tony insisted on calling him ‘honeybear’.

Still, it was weird to Bruce when Tony didn’t go back home, or even seem to get a call from his parents until almost a month after the fact, and it didn’t even seem like his family was going to acknowledge the fact that it had been their son’s birthday not long ago.

Granted, Bruce didn’t have any room to talk since he didn’t really do anything for his birthdays either, but it seemed like the kind of thing Tony would enjoy making a big deal over.

“So, how much do I have to bribe you to come with me to the next Stark Industries function?” Tony asked as soon as he was back from New York.

Bruce sighed, resting his book on his face for a brief moment. He was grateful for Tony’s return, since it would probably provide enough temporary distraction so that Bruce wouldn’t keep remembering Jen insisting he was going to burn out if he didn’t take a break.

While this wasn’t the type of distraction he’d had in mind, he’d take it anyways.

“You’re going to have to buy me an island or something if you want me to go into the snake pit. And that’s not an invitation for you to buy me an island, because I  _ still _ won’t want to go,” Bruce warned, moving the book again so he could actually look at Tony.

He sighed dramatically, dropping his suit jacket onto the floor. “Whatever happened to ‘you know I’ll do anything for you’?”

That didn’t even remotely sound right. Bruce couldn’t for the life of him figure out when he would have even said something that sounded even a little bit like that out loud. “I think you’re just bullshitting me in an attempt to guilt trip me. It’s not going to work.”

“I remember the spirit of the words and not the words themselves. The fact of the matter is, it was implied.”

Bruce rolled his eyes even as he fought back a fond smile. “Are you trying to tell me that you need me to come to a function with you, or is this all hypothetical?”

Tony shrugged, tugging off his tie in a ridiculously smooth motion before letting it slide to the floor too. “I’m pretty sure you would hate every second of it, so I’ll save the bribery for if it ever  _ actually _ gets dire.”

While that sounded ominous as hell, Bruce elected to ignore it for now. It was probably just Tony being dramatic. “I got that ice cream abomination of yours in the freezer, if it helps any.”

It had taken three different store runs and most of his Saturday to actually find the right brand of coffee ice cream, and then the caramel sauce and cherries, on top of the whipped cream that Tony tended to keep on hand anyways but they’d been running low on.

It was worth it, though, when Tony immediately lit up as if he’d just gotten the best news of his entire life. “See, this is why I love you,” he said, turning towards the freezer and pausing mid step as if his words had suddenly caught up to him. “I mean…”

Really, Bruce wasn’t entirely sure if he was supposed to take that to heart or not. Sure, they’d actually talked out a lot of what was going on, but… that wasn’t really a topic that they got into. They’d gotten sidetracked, and Bruce hadn’t want to put it back on course, so he left it alone. “I know what you mean,” he promised, even if it was less than true.

It honestly didn’t bother him. More than likely Tony meant it in a more platonic sense than anything. Which was fine; Bruce wasn’t about to claim he didn’t feel the same.

“Do you want any?” Tony asked, quick to change the subject. Bruce could hear him rifling through the freezer, then the fridge. A lot of the jars clinked together as he pulled out what he wanted, because extra noise never seemed to bother Tony like it sometimes did Bruce.

“You know, I think I’ll pass. I’ve grown fond of my heart and arteries over the years.”

There was a scoff followed by the clattering of bowls and silverware. “Please. I have yet to have heart issues due to anything I put in my body. It’s totally fine.”

The wording of that sentence was off-putting to say the least, and Bruce found himself peering into the kitchen where he could see Tony scooping out tiny chunks of too-hard ice cream with a spoon. “What, do you have heart issues from other circumstances?”

“The sugar is probably not going to give you a heart attack, is all I’m saying,” Tony insisted as he continued to put together the sundae from hell.

Really, it was weird how much of a sweet tooth Tony had considering that, aside from the whipped cream, he never seemed to buy himself anything sweet unless he was in an especially bad mood. But the second Bruce tried to bring home some chocolate for himself, Tony would steal it for his own when his back was turned.

Suffice to say, Bruce learned quickly to just get extra and find better hiding spaces for his own.

“Are you done studying for now?” Tony asked after the silence got a bit too long.

Bruce grimaced a bit, realizing that he didn’t have the motivation to keep slogging through it right now. Nor did he have the discipline to make himself do it regardless of his motivation levels. “Yeah. I think so.”

Tony seemed to take that as his cue to take up most of the couch, including stretching his legs across Bruce’s lap as the bowl of ice cream balanced precariously on his chest. “Good because I think we both need to relax, and that’s so much easier when I  _ don’t _ have to try and bribe you out of studying. You realize most people take summers off, right?”

There wasn’t even a second thought before he placed his book down on Tony’s legs, since there wasn’t really anywhere else he could. Well. The arm of the couch, he supposed. But he’d already set it down on Tony, so it wasn’t like he could really move it now. “I think I’m going to take fall semester off to compensate. It’s not too late to drop my classes, but. We’ll see how the rest of the summer goes.”

Tony blinked a bit, brows raised in surprise. “Seriously? I was mostly ribbing you; I didn’t think you’d  _ actually _ listen.”

“You didn’t actually suggest it either,” Bruce pointed out, gently pushing against the ball of Tony’s socked foot. “I’m thinking about it. I’ll let you know when it becomes more concrete.”

“Yeah but I was going to suggest it, and that’s what matters.”

He scoffed, knowing full well that he probably wasn’t going to do that. Hell, Tony didn’t have a lot of room to talk about taking breaks, considering he was the one taking eighteen credit hours per semester for at least the last year of school. Maybe even more, and what a terrifying thought that was. “Sure you were, Tones.”

“It’s like you have absolutely no faith in my ability to look out for you.” Tony nearly pouted, mashing his ice cream together until everything was an over-sugared mess, and there was no way that  _ actually _ tasted good all together.

“More like you’ve been known to overwork yourself way more than I do, and it doesn’t seem like you recognize it.”

“I do  _ not _ ,” Tony retorted, seemingly scandalized.

Really, it was cute, and had there not been so much in the way, Bruce would have seriously considered leaning across the couch to kiss him.

* * *

For all of Bruce’s talk that Tony worked too much, he didn’t seem to do a lot of  _ actual _ work now that he was out of school. If he wasn’t doing something for his father’s company or wandering around MIT’s campus doing whatever it was he did there, Bruce tended to just find him lounging around their apartment.

So, really, he wasn’t overly surprised to find Tony hanging upside down on the couch while… Magic School Bus of all things was playing on the tv.

Bruce had no idea why he kept watching all these children-aimed shows, but it was better than when he watched entire seasons of Bridezilas in one day. It was a lot quieter too.

“Nowhere to be?” he asked.

Tony barely looked up, having to crane his neck for a brief second before letting himself lapse against the couch. “I did my heir-ly duties already. I don’t have to be anywhere for another couple of months.”

“That sounds so suspicious,” Bruce muttered, wandering into the kitchen. “Remind me to become rich by proxy so I don’t have to do anything for weeks on end.”

“Well if you want to marry me we can arrange that pretty quick, but I’m pretty sure you would get bored within months.”

It was probably meant as a joke. But there was still a little flash in Bruce’s mind as he considered what it would be like if Tony was serious. The wedding would probably be too big for Bruce’s tastes, but he already knew what Tony looked like when he was all dressed up. It wasn’t hard to picture a gold band around his finger as well.

“Bored of you, or bored of the money?” Bruce found himself asking, shaking away the imaginings. That wasn’t what they were doing. Tony wasn’t serious.

Tony clicked his tongue, either muting the program or turning off the tv. “Of the money, you dick. I’m an exciting, delightful person that could never be boring.”

A small smile tugged at Bruce’s lips as he rolled his eyes, even though he knew Tony couldn’t see it. “If you’re keen to part with it, there’s several worthy causes I can direct your attention to. You know, since it’s so easy to get bored of.”

“We have a humanitarian sector you can send those kind of suggestions to. And it’s technically not mine anyways, for the most part. Rich by proxy, remember? I don’t  _ actually _ have a place high up in the company right now. Very few of my patents are earning money that goes directly to me,” Tony said, as if it was some kind of common knowledge.

Which, it probably should have been. But the idea that Tony was throwing someone else’s money around without regard didn’t sit well with Bruce, so he tried not to think about their finances too much. Though, the thought that Tony was possibly spending what little money that he had on this place… It wasn’t much better.

“How about we just keep doing this, and I’ll consider becoming rich by proxy later.”

Tony seemed to take that well enough, turning the sound back on, though Bruce could still hear him mutter, “I mean you kind of are already, but whatever.”

Bruce didn’t want to acknowledge that. It wasn’t strictly true, and he was trying not to think too much about whatever their involvement level was right now. Maybe the argument over it was done, but that didn’t mean Bruce had any clearer of an idea about what they were doing.

“Are you making dinner, or can I order in? Because I’m not going to complain if you’re cooking, but I finally found a Spanish place willing to deliver,” Tony said, as if he hadn’t been disparaging under his breath a moment ago.

“I wasn’t aware those were mutually exclusive.” The cupboards were full. Ordering in would really be a pointless waste. “I can cook for just myself, you know. You can still order something without getting anything for me.”

“Well, that sounds pointless.” He heard Tony stretch and then the dull thud of something hitting the floor. “Don’t bother cooking, then. I’ll order in when it actually gets closer to dinner. It’s too hot to eat right now.”

“You realize it’s almost cold in here with how low you have the A/C, right?” Well. It wasn’t actually cold. Bruce recognized that it was probably, at the coolest, high sixties inside but it felt jarring compared to the temperature outside.

“I’m warm-blooded, Brucie. Everything is hot to me.”

Bruce huffed a laugh, debating on if he should just preemptively pull out the last of Tony’s ice cream before deciding better of it. More likely than not, Tony would forget about it by the time it actually softened enough to scoop out. “I think that has less to do with you being warm-blooded and more to do with you as a person being hot.”

Tony shifted upright abruptly enough that Bruce worried about the blood rushing from his head. “Did you just admit you think I’m hot? Is that a thing that just happened?”

Bruce paused, fixing Tony with an odd look. While that hadn’t  _ actually _ been his intention… “What, is that supposed to be news? I’m pretty sure well over half the people who see you think that you’re attractive.”

“Attractive is so much more clinical than hot, though.” He waved dismissively, holding himself up in what had to be an uncomfortable position, considering his legs were still looped over the back of the couch. “More the point,  _ you _ in particular think I’m sexy, and not the nameless masses. That’s a whole different thing. And it’s definitely new.”

Clinical. Something about that made Bruce feel a little wrong-footed, since that was the kind of word he typically would use. And if that was off putting… “I figured it was implied multiple times within the last couple of months. I didn’t know you needed me to tell you that I think you’re… gorgeous,” he finished awkwardly, hoping that one would sit better with Tony.

Tony hummed, shifting around so that he was kneeling up on the couch, still peering over the edge at Bruce. “I mean, I don’t  _ need _ you too. It’s nice, though. Every once in awhile. It’s really hard for me to read you, you know? I mean, you never really get…” He gestured vaguely, but obscenely enough that Bruce found himself blushing regardless.

“First of all, that’s not accurate. Second of all, we haven’t really done much that would…” Bruce trailed off, unsure how to even finish that sentence comfortably.

For what it was worth, Tony looked suitably unimpressed long before Bruce couldn’t finish his thought. “I’m literally on top of you about half the time we’re together. I might have gotten a rise out of you once or twice but as far as I’m aware, that’s about it.”

Really, this conversation probably couldn’t get more mortifying. Yes, he was aware that Tony tended to get excited a lot easier than Bruce did when they were making out. That didn’t mean he was incapable, or, god forbid, that he wanted to  _ talk _ about it. Especially since he’d spent almost the entirety of his time in the dorms making sure Tony didn’t find out how easy it was for him to affect him like that. “Is that a problem?”

There was something almost scrutinizing about the wide-eyed look Tony had leveled at him. Eventually, he shrugged and tore his gaze away. “Just makes me wonder if you’re actually into me or not sometimes. That’s all. I mean, you kind of act like you are, but then we’re back to the whole ‘I instigate everything’ conversation we tried to have a few weeks back, but got sidetracked from.”

Right. Of course. The one Bruce adamantly didn’t want to have, because then they’d have to talk about Bruce’s opinions on Tony’s sex life, or the fact that Bruce wasn’t even sure how to take that kind of initiative to begin with.

“I don’t know, Tony. Can we just accept that I  _ do _ think you’re hot and chalk the rest up to inexperience?”

“But you’ve done it before. And I’m pretty sure I would have heard if you had those kinds of issues with either of the others, because that’s the kind of shit people talk about, you know?”

He could feel the blush darkening at the reminder that Tony  _ knew _ at least partial details about the people he’d slept with. Granted, Bruce had no idea how he knew that, but he also liked knowing as little about Tony’s prying as he possibly could. “It was different, all right? I was following their lead instead of trying to take the lead.” That, and there was the additional fact that they hadn’t really mattered to Bruce. That had made a lot to make it easier on his nerves.

“Not what I was  _ actually _ referencing, but good to know anyways.” Tony frowned, his brow creasing in a way that had Bruce wanting to smooth it out. “You do like guys, right? I mean, I don’t think you’ve slept with one, and there was no gay porn in your search history--not that there was any porn in your search history but that’s beside the point--so are you just… Are you trying something out here, or what is this?”

Vaguely, Bruce wished that he had any desire to drink because this wasn’t even remotely a conversation he wanted to have sober. Not that he wanted to have it while drunk, but that seemed like an important distinction to make to himself.

That didn’t mean that he could put off this, though. If he wanted to get this behind them, Bruce had to deal with it now. “It’s complicated, ok? I never really defined it, nor do I want to define it at the moment. I’m just… I’m just kind of going with it right now, all right?”

The silence that followed was awkward, and Bruce had to make a conscious effort not to fidget or keep talking, because it wasn’t going to make it any better.

“You know it’s fine if you’re not interested in sex, right? We can keep doing what we’re doing without it.”

Bruce almost winced. That was almost the opposite of what he was trying to say. Of course he wanted to. It was just… “That’s not the problem here. Can we just… Accept that and stop talking about it?”

There was something odd in Tony’s gaze that definitely made Bruce feel more than a little uncomfortable, whether that was his intention or not. “Just don’t do me because you think you have to. I’m more than capable of getting that elsewhere, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Gee, and here I was worrying about that. It’s not as if that’s what made me think I was interested in people to begin with,” Bruce muttered. And then regretted saying it the second he heard himself. It would prove an ample distraction to Tony, but the cost to his ego...

“Wait, seriously?”

Well, it sounded like it got him on a different topic like Bruce wanted… Now he’d have to deal with Tony being smug about it. It wasn’t like he could just leave it at that, because he was pretty sure he’d be  _ more _ smug about it if Bruce refused to talk further about it.

“Yeah, thanks for that. I was happily ignoring it until I had the time to figure it out, but you came along, took up half my bed and made me think about it. And you managed to be charming even while digging your elbows into my ribs.”

At least that thoughtful look had gone, even if it was replaced by a poorly suppressed grin. “If I say that it’s because I’m just that good looking, are you going to huff at me?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs to settle himself on. Distance was probably a good thing right now. It made it easier for Bruce to think about things without his traitorous head trying to focus on how Tony felt so close. The way warmth radiated off him, the fact that he didn’t even smell like engine grease anymore, which would then lead Bruce to wonder when that had faded away…

“So. Are we doing this, or do you want to wait and sort it out a little bit longer?” Tony asked.

“Sure. Strip down and we’ll do this right now in front of the television,” Bruce deadpanned without a second thought.

Tony huffed a laugh, tugging at the hem of his threadbare t-shirt and waggling his brows almost cartoonishly. “On the couch? Careful, I’m starting to think you might actually be kinky over there.”

It was hard not to roll his eyes, propping his chin on his forearm as he slouched over the back of the chair. “Keep dreaming, Tony.”

* * *

For all that Bruce was worried that actually  _ talking _ about it would lead to more awkwardness, even as little depth as Bruce tried to explain, Tony seemed to take everything more or less in stride. Or, he didn’t actively shy away, at least. And maybe he was a little bolder when it came to his advances, but he didn’t complain too much every time Bruce slowed them down before either of them could so much as get their pants unfastened.

There was still a lot of complaining, however; it just usually ended as a general tirade and Tony carefully never complained about Bruce directly. Which was well and truly appreciated.

“Think I should just invest in some sex toys?” Tony asked, doing  _ something _ on his computer.

That was definitely not the conversation Bruce wanted to have while reading his notes from his astrophysics class. Partially because the class was turning out to be a lot less interesting than he’d originally thought, and that was a little tragic to think about. “Are you trying to tell me that you haven’t done that already?”

Tony scoffed, still typing away and not so much as looking at Bruce. “I’m pretty sure you would be aware if I had a large stash of things I use to get myself off with, dear. I mean, normally I do that kind of thing in the shower, but you’d know if I was hauling things back and forth with me. Probably.”

“Probably,” Bruce repeated, a small grimace touching his lips as he actually set aside his work to stretch out on the couch a bit. Maybe he should just start scheduling in breaks for himself. It was going to be nice to take it a little easier next semester, even if he’d only ended up dropping half of his classes. “You can buy whatever you want, Tony. I’m not going to say you can’t or anything like that.”

Tony hummed noncommittally. “I’ll think about it, then,” he decided. “I like how you didn’t get flustered at the mere mention of that, though. Very impressive.”

“Remember the part where I’m  _ not _ a blushing virgin?”

He could practically hear Tony shrugging, and maybe it was best that Bruce didn’t try to reassert that he wasn’t. The longer he talked about it, the more likely he would get flustered, and he didn’t want to go and prove Tony right.

“We’ll see. Maybe I’ll get something for you instead,” Tony mused, side-eying Bruce hard enough that he couldn’t really ignore it.

And, really, Bruce couldn’t stop the hectic blush from spreading across his face if he tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello (: Fun fact about this chapter: this was supposed to be the first /actually/ explicit chapter in the fic, but it turned into a 7k+ word behemoth that was a nightmare to edit, so you guys have to wait one more week for this to actually earn the E rating ^^;; But I hope you guys enjoy anyways, and thank you as always for reading, leaving kudos, asking questions and leaving comments, and just generally being fantastic people


	7. Chapter 7

Saturday morning found Bruce waking up to a very exhausted Tony curled up on top of him, which was unusual all on its own. It was rare for Tony to sleep longer than Bruce, in spite of the late hours he kept and Bruce’s occasional morning classes. So it was definitely odd to wake up to a warm body covering him, and Tony occasionally muttering nonsense in his sleep against Bruce’s neck.

Granted, that wasn’t the most jarring thing about the whole situation but it was definitely the first thing that he noticed, which probably said a lot about him if he were keen to examine it.

At some point between midnight and… well, whenever it was, Tony had gotten himself straddling one of Bruce’s thighs, and he was extremely aware of the hard line of Tony’s cock nearly  _ rutting _ there, sliding up into the hollow of Bruce’s hip.

Heat flooded through him, more than half out of embarrassment, but some of it was definitely more… 

He tried to convince himself the reason he should wake Tony up was because he probably wouldn’t appreciate waking up to the mess. But he couldn’t really lie to himself to that extent, considering that he didn’t even hesitate to grasp at Tony’s hip while the other went to curl through his hair. Holding him in place.

“Tony,” he murmured, barely pressing his thigh up between the other’s and guiding him to rut more firmly against him. Maybe it made him an awful person for not immediately trying to stop him. For encouraging him even now.

A soft moan fell from his lips, notably different from the sounds Tony tended to make when he was asleep.

Bruce tried to ignore how his mind repeated it back a few times.

“Tony,” he said louder, tightening his hold on Tony’s hair until he could feel his eyelashes fluttering against his neck.

“Oh god…” There was another quiet, wordless sound as Tony’s hips stilled and he picked himself up enough to look down at Bruce, skin flushed and eyes dark.

He should probably stop. Stop and make sure Tony was awake and that he was actually into this, because god knew that he didn’t want to accidentally take any kind of advantage of him. “You’re ok,” Bruce promised lowly, loosening his hands so that he could break away easily if he wanted to. “It’s ok.”

He grumbled, blinking slowly and not quite managing to open his eyes all the way. “It’s embarrassing as hell,” Tony griped, voice still rough from sleep, and Bruce wished he’d got to hear that tone more often.

He made to climb off of Bruce, and in spite of all his mental chidings Bruce found himself tugging on Tony’s hip to keep him in place. “You can stay, though. I don’t… I’d like it if you did.”

That seemed to bring Tony pause, gaze considering as he sat up, still on top of Bruce, and it was so hard not to be hyper-aware of Tony’s cock against him. “I may or may not be into some mild humiliation stuff, but I’d rather not restart this whole thing with you by dry humping your leg after dreaming about you fucking me. So unless you’re fine with one of us getting a little more hands-on here, I’m going to go take care of this by myself.”

In all likelihood, Tony in no way meant it as a challenge. And ordinarily Bruce wouldn’t take it as one, but… It was early. And maybe his nerves were still offline, because he managed to look Tony straight in the eye as he dragged his hand over to feel along the length of his still-covered cock. “Then I’ll be a little more hands-on,” he said, frowning a bit when he heard his own voice. There was something almost gravelly about it, and that was more than a little weird to him.

Apparently Tony didn’t notice or mind and he was quick to cant his hips forward against Bruce’s palm, leaning back to open himself up to his touch a bit more. Almost looking automatic, and  _ definitely _ looking shameless, which was kind of amazing in combination with the sleep-softness of the rest of him. “Yeah, all right honey... Show me what you’ve got.”

Apparently Bruce tended to do just fine when he wasn’t trying to think too hard about it, since he didn’t really give it a second thought before rolling them over, gently guiding Tony down onto the mess of sheets on their bed. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, settling in between Tony’s spread legs.

Tony scoffed, making a show of stretching his arms over his head and arching his chest up. “I’m just as capable of saying no as I am of saying yes, Brucie. It’s sweet that you’re worried about me consenting, but I’m definitely into this. Stop fretting.”

The whole ‘stop fretting’ thing honestly just served to make him fret more, but… Tony said it was fine. Bruce had to trust him on this.

It was hard not to be almost uncomfortably aware of his own dick swelling up, in spite of the fact that he hadn’t been touched. In spite of the fact that Bruce’s nerves were starting to wake up along with the rest of his body.

He bent down, returning his palm to the front of Tony’s sweatpants and delicately kissed the top of Tony’s cheekbone. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

Tony pulled a face, but he was still quick to press their lips together for a brief moment before Bruce had managed to pull away fully, heedless of the sleep-staleness of their breath. “It’s sweet. Just not necessary right now.”

He rolled his eyes, inhaling slowly to get himself centered again. There was something weird about feeling the ridge of a cock beneath his palm but having it not be his own. It was something that he could get used to pretty quickly, though. Maybe it was something he could physically enjoy, too once he settled into it.

Bruce tucked his fingers beneath the waistband, reminding himself that he  _ did _ know what he was doing before peeling what little Tony was wearing down to his knees.

The fact that Tony’s skin was still golden all the way down his hips almost seemed strange, especially given the fact that he didn’t seem to go out enough to maintain any sort of tan. Bruce let his nails rasp across the wiry hair along Tony’s lower stomach, hesitating momentarily when he was close to coming in contact with his cock.

It wasn’t… Honestly, Bruce had expected to be more lost than he was. It was a dick. Bruce had been handling his own for years; it wasn’t unfamiliar territory for him. Maybe Tony’s was a little thicker, but it was really the same concept.

“You know, when I said ‘hands on’, I was expecting something a little more, you know, ‘hands on’?” Tony prompted.

“I’m admiring, shut up,” Bruce retorted, even as blood warmed his face. Still, he did as asked, dragging his knuckles up the smooth skin of the shaft and listening to the slight hitch in Tony’s breath.

All right. He could work with that. It was kind of what he’d done with his other two bed partners: just focused solely on what got a reaction out of them and putting the finer details of what he was supposed to be doing out of mind.

It took a little bit longer than he would have liked to find a comfortable grip, but at least Tony had fallen mostly quiet in the interim. Though Bruce could still hear the rustling of the pillow as Tony’s hands clenched and unclenched around it as Bruce let his own slide loosely over Tony’s cock.

There was a weird disconnect, if he thought about it. It was different when he was feeling up anatomy he was less familiar with, but he almost expected to be able to feel it when his thumb was brushing along the head. It was irrational, fine. He recognized that much, but at least Tony seemed to settle into it just fine.

“Good?” he asked, since he was pretty sure  _ that _ didn’t count as double checking consent, or whatever.

Tony squirmed a little bit, and Bruce could practically  _ see _ how his breath hitched in his chest. Definitely good, then.

“Would be better if you’d hurry up,” he muttered anyways, looping a leg around Bruce’s hip. “Come on, sugar… Start my day off right.”

It was really hard not to laugh at how corny that was. Whether that was Tony’s intention or not Bruce didn’t know, and he didn’t want to ask in case he was serious. “Sugar, really?” he asked instead as he slowly started to stroke Tony’s cock a bit more firmly.

The effect was startlingly immediate. Tony’s eyes slid shut as his head went back and something about him almost seemed to go  _ soft _ and that was just…

It was a little heady, if he was being honest with himself. To see how quickly Tony gave into it.

“I think you’re the sweet one, here,” Bruce continued, figuring out the rhythm. It was still weird, but it wasn’t a  _ bad _ weird. He ducked down, lips pressing against the juncture between Tony’s neck and shoulder, feeling Tony tilt his head to the side which Bruce took as an opportunity to graze his teeth along the muscle.

That earned him a long, drawn out hum as Tony draped an arm around Bruce’s shoulders, urging him closer as his pulse picked up. “Little harder.”

Bruce was quick to oblige, tightening his hold and soaking in the tell-tale hiss that indicated he’d gotten it right. He could definitely feel how almost each pass of his hand was more slick than the last, and Bruce almost didn’t want to look to check if he could see the precum easing the way. Clearly Tony was already pretty far gone, in spite of the fact that they’d really only just started. Whatever he’d been dreaming about had given him a hell of a head start.

“Yeah, fuck, like that,” Tony breathed, back arching off the mattress for a brief moment.

“You’re so demanding…” Granted, Bruce was quickly finding out that he  _ liked  _ that. Not just because it took away at least some of the guesswork, but there was something about hearing Tony that just… It did something for him.

More than likely Bruce was going to end up having to take himself in hand after this, or maybe just wait it out. It would be hard for him to go right to sleep after, even though he had no desire to actually get up and do anything.

Heedless of Bruce’s inner monologue, Tony seemed to tense up bit by bit. His heel dug into Bruce’s back as easily as his nails dug into his shoulder. Almost like he was getting drawn tighter and tighter, and there was almost a touch of dread mixed with Bruce’s anticipation of actually getting to bring Tony off, especially with how quickly he seemed to be approaching the edge.

As if it would suddenly become real once that happened. That there would be no way of going back to ‘particularly close friends’ afterwards.

“There you go, Tony. Come on,” Bruce chided, pressing his lips against Tony’s jaw. So close to the almost erratic pulse that Bruce could practically  _ feel _ it against his skin.

“Don’t say that kind of shit,” Tony bit back, even as his body rolled and he fucked up into Bruce’s hand. “God, I’m gonna… Don’t stop.”

It was a good thing that Bruce had tucked himself into the crook of Tony’s neck, because he didn’t particularly want Tony to see the almost smug grin that was starting to curl his lips. He doubted it would be very well appreciated. “Don’t stop talking, or don’t stop this?” To punctuate his point, Bruce twisted his palm over the tip, definitely aware of the dampness of it.

Considering how Tony bodily jolted against him, he was going to count that as something he should do a little more often.

“Let me…” Tony trailed off, detaching his nails from Bruce’s back and clumsily reaching for his pants instead.

_ That _ brought a lot of Bruce’s apprehension back to the forefront, strokes almost stuttering to a halt, and he couldn’t really put his finger on why. Really, he should have thought that Tony would offer the same in return. It seemed like common sense, and for some reason it hadn’t even crossed his mind that Tony might…

“You don’t have to,” Bruce said, even though he didn’t draw away. It was fine. It would be fine; it wasn’t like Tony was going to immediately move to fuck him, probably. More than likely, it would just be  _ this _ . Tony’s hand around his cock.

Tony’s fingers tucked just a bit beneath the waist of his pants regardless, his touch warm against Bruce’s overheated skin. Not dipping beneath far enough to actually touch anything, but Bruce was overly-aware of the drag of his nails against places even Bruce rarely touched.

Tony squirmed a little, seemingly trying to get Bruce to start fucking his hand over his cock again, though his own hand stayed where it was. “I want to. I mean, if you don’t, that’s fine but… I  _ really _ want to.”

God, and Bruce couldn’t even argue with that. Not really. He took a slow breath, gently squeezing Tony’s cock and absorbing the choked-back moan he got in return. Letting that settle his nerves. “Let me finish you off first.”

Tony laughed almost breathlessly, hips flexing in a ridiculously gorgeous way that Bruce couldn’t help but admire. “Such a gentleman,” he teased.

He almost bit back a smile. It was cute, really. His previous partners had almost been serious about this, and the fact that even now Tony was still ribbing him and trying to give him a hard time… It was nice. Maybe that was what had been missing before.

“You deserve it,” he promised before leaning up to kiss Tony.

It was, objectively, a lot. The slide of their lips together, the heat of Tony’s cock in his hand, the way Tony hadn’t pulled  _ his  _ hand away…

That slightly strangled tone entered Tony’s voice again, reminding him of the way he sounded when Bruce had accidentally pulled his hair harder than he’d meant to. Short little bitten off gasps and groans that Bruce was determined to keep pulling out of him and memorize even as they kept getting muffled between their mouths.

It almost felt too soon when Tony was tensing up again, pressing his body up towards Bruce almost desperately. A big part of him wanted to drag it out so he could keep listening, keep feeling, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about that, and he was certain Tony wouldn’t appreciate it if he stopped entirely only to start all over again.

Bruce broke away from the kiss, which had really turned sloppy on Tony’s part in the best possible way, making sure to actually look at him.

There was a hectic flush across Tony’s face, creeping down his neck. Bruce was pretty damn sure that those dark eyes were glazed over, only vaguely focused on Bruce whenever he managed to keep them open.

He was gorgeous, really and truly. Gorgeous and enjoying himself, and that was  _ exactly _ how Bruce wanted him.

Then, almost suddenly, it seemed to snap as Tony’s brows drew together and his lips parted soundlessly as he spilled into Bruce’s fist, hot and slick. Instinctively, Bruce slowed down, gentling him through it as Tony’s cock softened in his hand, listening to his jagged gasps.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Tony breathed, finally going lax. “I’m going to have to try and get you to do that more often, just so you know.”

Bruce snorted, wiping his palm off on the sheets before straightening himself up. And then wincing a little bit when the shifting dislodged Tony’s grip enough that the elastic snapped back against him. “I might be persuaded. You’re a pretty enthusiastic partner.”

“Is that what does it for you?” Tony was slow as he shifted, as if he needed to be careful as he slid up against the headboard. “Come here. Let me…”

Right. This. Bruce mentally chided himself that it would be fine and that he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself if he  _ did _ let Tony return the favor, and that Tony might be offended if Bruce insisted on taking care of it on his own.

More the point, Bruce wasn’t opposed to it. It was just nerves, probably. He didn’t  _ not _ want Tony to offer him the same; it didn’t make him shy away, and it wasn’t even an uncomfortable idea at the end of the day.

“How do you want me?” he asked, unsure of what to really do with himself. When he was touching Tony, he had a clear goal. He had a pretty good idea of what he was doing. Now, though, he almost felt a little lost.

At least Tony seemed to take in stride, much like everything else, since he was quickly twisting his hand into Bruce’s shirt and tugging him closer. “Depends on if you’re going to let me suck you off or not. Well, actually I can manage that from most positions, so that doesn’t really matter much.”

The mental image flooded his thoughts immediately, and Bruce had to swallow convulsively as he tried to forget it just as fast. The idea of Tony’s lips being stretched wide like that, dark lashes against his hollowed cheeks...

“I think you’re expecting more from me than I can probably give,” Bruce muttered, even as he crawled up the bed until Tony was tucking his hands up underneath his shirt, starting to ruck it up.

Anxiety flared right back up as Bruce quickly maneuvered them away. “I’d rather keep it on, if that’s all right.”

He wanted to make an excuse. Either that or be completely honest and tell him that it just wasn’t pretty underneath, but this was definitely not the time he wanted to deal with old scars that littered his back and shoulders. Eventually it would have to come up, but right now when the dawn-soft light was barely peeking through their blinds… It would probably be the fastest way to ruin the moment for both of them.

Bruce would admit to being more grateful that Tony seemed to just shrug it off and set to trying to get him back against the headboard. “Anything else you want me to avoid? Aside from sucking you off, and you’re  _ really _ missing out by passing that up, just so you know.”

Bruce huffed a laugh, letting Tony move him around as he wished until he was settled between his knees and he was once again starting to tug down his sleep pants. “Unless you’re going to try anything extreme, I think everything else is just fine.”

“So I shouldn’t tie you to the bed and call you ‘daddy’. Got it.” Tony shot him a ridiculously cheeky grin and tapping his hip. “Lift up?”

Automatically, Bruce cringed. “We’re never playing that. For so many reasons,” he said, even as he braced his feet on the bed so he could do as Tony asked.

He hummed sympathetically, exposing Bruce without any of the lingering hesitation that Bruce tended to showcase. “You too, huh? Don’t worry, I like to keep my daddy issues out of the bedroom. And as many other aspects of my life as possible.”

Bruce almost stopped to ask what kind of daddy issues Tony could possibly have before remembering this was the opposite of a good time and place. Apparently the two of them had a lot of things to navigate through, but Bruce would bring it up later.

He made himself focus on the way Tony laid down to rest his head on Bruce’s thigh and absently stroked the outer curve of his hip. “Ok?” Tony asked, palm warm against Bruce’s skin.

Of course, that just served to make Bruce ridiculously aware of how Tony was at eye level with his dick, and it was hard to not try and cover himself up. “I’m fine,” he insisted, training his eyes on the cheap, tiled ceiling. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t watch Tony watching him. Maybe he’d feel a little less vulnerable.

Granted, all it really amounted to was making him startle a bit when Tony’s touch abruptly shifted to his dick, fingers trailing up the length before wrapping firmly around it.

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart,” Tony said softly as he set a slow rhythm.

There were calluses on his hands, Bruce noted. Little rough patches that kept catching, and only really served to darken the blush that was definitely creeping down his neck. “You’re the one with the looks here, Tony,” he contradicted, knees trying to close in spite of the fact that he was in the way.

Tony hummed, and Bruce could almost feel his throat vibrate with it. “If I am, you should keep your eyes on me instead of the ceiling.”

Part of him really didn’t want to for reasons he couldn’t quite place. Tony  _ was  _ the pretty one. And while there was no doubt that the flushed skin, sated easiness of him, and hooded eyes would be a more than appealing sight…

There was something incredibly raw about just the thought of it. But he wasn’t about to actually refuse what Tony asked, even if it wasn’t strictly phrased as a question.

He took a shaky breath, tearing his eyes away to refocus on Tony. Who was still resting his cheek on Bruce’s leg, loosely stroking his cock with his work-hardened hands. The second their eyes connected, a grin started to curl across Tony’s lips.

“That’s so much better,” Tony crooned. His grip tightened the slightest bit, and it was pretty damn obvious that he didn’t have any of the same shyness that Bruce did.

Pretty damn obvious that Tony had years of questionable experience at play here that Bruce didn’t.

Really, that thought was a little heady in an entirely different way and part of him wanted to guide Tony closer. To have him press his face against Bruce’s hip, or his lips just settled against his--

“Hold on,” Bruce insisted, voice tight. That was too fast; the visuals his mind was conjuring up in addition to what was actually in front of him…

And the reality was, if Bruce  _ was _ to guide him forward, Tony would probably settle there happily. Without so much as a second thought.

Thankfully, Tony didn’t seem too bothered by the request. And while he did slow down his strokes, he decided to make up for it by holding on tighter. Bordering on too tight, but not quite there.

His breath was more than a little shaky as he carded his fingers through Tony’s hair, watching him lean into the touch so easily. That was something he found he liked: how easily Tony pushed into whatever physical affection he was offered, and Bruce could feel his throat tightening at the thought.

It was hard to keep his thoughts on track, especially when Tony’s hand gradually started to speed up again and Bruce’s mind instantly tried to go right back into the gutter. It was hard not to mentally repeat how  _ good _ Tony was when the mere thought of it just heated him up a little more. How much practice he must have, and how  _ easy _ he--

Bruce hissed, instantly dropping that train of thought before it got any further out of hand. He didn’t think that. Not really, of course not, it was just…

“You’re so quiet,” Tony mused, pausing only long enough to kneel up before palming over the head.

His hips jolted, a soft, low sound getting torn from his throat. “You’ve got a lot of complaints,” Bruce retorted almost sullenly as he wrapped his own hand around Tony’s wrist. Feeling it flex and twist beneath his fingers.

“Not complaints. Just observations.” Though, he still kneeled up and leaned over to pressed his mouth against Bruce’s in apology.

Probably in apology.

Either way, it had Bruce surging forward, carding his hand through Tony’s hair and almost understanding why he tended to kiss so urgently.

It was sharper than what Bruce would normally want, but it felt more than perfect in the moment. The nick of teeth against soft lips, the difficulty to get a deep breath with how little space there was between them… It had him clamoring for more as the need to cum just bubbled closer to the surface until it felt like it was searing him.

“Tony,” he murmured. The word was barely audible with how it was muffled between their lips, but he felt like he should probably warn him. But he didn’t want to pull away enough to manage all the words properly.

Regardless, Tony nodded minutely. “Yeah, go for it babe. Make me a mess, let me see…”

Bruce swallowed thickly, trying to push back images of what it would look like if he  _ actually _ made a mess of Tony; what it would look like to draw bruises to his neck, to leave his skin, his hands,  _ all of him _ slick with white strands of--

Almost immediately, the tight knot in his stomach seemed to break, heat flooding through him as his climax pulsed through him hard enough that Bruce barely even noticed that he was digging his nails into the back of Tony’s neck until after the world rushed back into hyper-focus and he had to struggle to get a deep breath.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered, smoothing his fingertips over the indents he could feel in Tony’s skin.

Tony tucked his face into the crook of Bruce’s neck, cum-slick hand sliding across his hip in a way that would definitely be disgusting later, but right now Bruce almost reveled in it.

“Also not complaining about that, but maybe pick somewhere with more meat next time,” Tony said, almost sounding like he was suppressing laughter.

“Yeah, thanks,” he deadpanned, almost embarrassed in spite of how at ease Tony was. Still, he hooked his ankle around Tony’s knee and pulled him closer in spite of the pressure it put on his oversensitive cock when he complied and sprawled over him.

More than likely, they’d have to get up pretty soon to at least clean themselves up. But Bruce was going to just try and keep them in bed as long as possible until then so he could process what had just happened. Both physically and mentally, because at least half of what he’d thought of bothered him a hell of a lot more now than it had in the moment. And it had bothered him more than a little in the moment.

Eventually, he’d probably have to talk to Tony about that. Just… Just not right now. Right now he just wanted to focus on the weight of Tony on top of him and his warm breath against his neck. The parts of this that Bruce knew for a fact that he liked, and had absolutely no qualms with before, during, or after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys wanted over 4,000 words worth of PWP, right? Like, that was definitely what you guys were asking for?
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone for reading, dropping kudos, leaving comments, etc <3 You all are the absolute greatest and I adore you.


	8. Chapter 8

Some part of Bruce had thought things would change afterwards. That maybe things would get stilted, or Tony would get skittish again, but…

Really, it didn’t seem like anything was that different. They still went about their lives, Tony still picked up way more than they needed when it was his turn to buy groceries, and while Bruce had dropped about half of his classes for the fall semester, he still kept his head buried in his work.

Tony had thought he should drop all of his classes, but Tony already had his degrees so his input was deemed irrelevant.

The only thing that changed was the fact that Tony _definitely_ wasn’t holding back when it came to demanding physical affection. Which was odd, since Bruce hadn’t thought he was holding back to begin with but apparently he was wrong about that.

“What are you even planning on doing once you graduate?” Tony asked, curling himself around Bruce as best he could.

The fact that he now actually had the time to join Tony when he binge-watched old science shows and awful reality tv was kind of a novelty, honestly, even if he didn’t understand the appeal most of the time. The couch they were sharing really was only barely deep enough for them to spoon like this, but that didn’t seem to be stopping either of them.

It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but Bruce didn’t have the heart to move him. “Seems a little early to be thinking about that, don’t you think?”

_And_ it seemed like an odd question coming from someone who graduated over a half year ago, especially when Bruce was pretty sure he didn’t actually have a job of his own. But he wasn’t about to mention that.

Tony hummed, kissing the back of his neck and wedging a knee between Bruce’s. “You should be a little over half-way, right? Two springs, two summers, a fall and a half by the end of this semester… Unless you’re actually going for your Masters or postgraduate afterwards, that puts you a little over two years into the program, I think.”

His brow furrowed a bit. That math seemed… wrong. It sounded right, but he was pretty sure there was no way that he was already--

“Jesus, I’ll be nineteen soon.”

He could feel the laughter Tony was smothering against his back, the way his shoulders shook with it. “That’s the part that’s freaking you out? You’re already a legal adult, Brucie. And you can’t even drink yet, so calm down. You’re not going to go grey for a long time.”

Bruce elbowed Tony in the ribs, well aware that he couldn’t see him roll his eyes. “Not actually the part that was freaking me out, but thank you for adding that to my list of worries.”

“You’re fine. Hey, maybe I’ll actually be home in time to celebrate with you this time. It’s the same week as Christmas, right?”

“Tony, you should spend it with your family. It’s the holidays.” Though, Bruce wasn’t going to be seeing _his_ family for any of that. He didn’t want to struggle to scrounge up enough for a plane ticket, and he certainly wasn’t about to ask for the money. From his family, and _especially_ not from Tony.

But, he was pretty sure Tony was unaware of that, which meant he’d hopefully go see his own parents. He’d really rather not Tony stay out of pity, even if it meant staying by himself again. It was fine. He was still pretty used to Christmas and his birthday not being a big deal.

“Yeah, but I like you better,” Tony insisted, holding him tightly for a brief moment before loosening his grip. “I’ll try to get back early if nothing else. Try to catch you for Christmas at least.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. You’re my…” Tony trailed off, as if he was unsure of how to finish that sentence.

Honestly, part of Bruce didn’t actually want him to finish that thought. They’d managed just fine without talking about what they were to each other. “I know. It’s ok though, I promise.”

At least Tony didn’t move to argue with him or just generally try and pry some sort of concession out of Bruce. He simply slid his hand under the front of Bruce’s shirt and nudged him back a bit more before turning the volume up on the television.

* * *

There were definitely parts of the easier class schedule that Bruce enjoyed. He only had to go two days a week, and he didn’t have to worry about balancing four different sets of assignments all at once.

On the other hand, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with all the extra free time. Idly, he toyed with the notion of getting a part time job to fill up the rest of his days. He would have been a lot more avid about it, except Tony insisted he wait until after midterms, and Bruce ended up listening to him. Bruce hadn’t really understood why Tony insisted that he had so much free time until a few weeks before midterms.

“So. You don’t have class this Wednesday, right?”

Bruce frowned a bit, looking over to where Tony was settled on the floor of the kitchen. He’d come home to Tony trying to make _something_ , and he hadn’t looked away from the oven since he put the pan in. “I don’t have class any Wednesdays. You asked me that before I even started this semester and double checked about twice after.”

“Great. Follow-up question: can you drive?”

Already Bruce was pretty sure he didn’t like where this conversation was going. He liked it a lot less when coupled with the fact that Tony wasn’t even looking at him. “I _can_ , but I can’t promise to be any good at it. It’s been a while.”

Tony pulled a face, opening the oven to peer inside before closing it again. “Well, that’ll work. I kind of need a ride back from the hospital next week. I mean, I can drive there, but you know. Anesthesia and all; I don’t think I’m allowed to drive myself back. And I’d _really_ rather not take a cab back if I’m going to be out of it.”

Great, so it was more daunting than Bruce originally anticipated. “What are you doing that’s going to need anesthesia?”

He could see where Tony started chewing on the inside of his cheek, finally looking over at Bruce with a sheepish expression. “It’s just some minor outpatient surgery. It’s fine; I just can’t drive after. And they might say I can’t be alone the rest of the day, but I don’t actually remember if that’s a thing or if Jarvis said that as a way to get me to stop complaining about his hovering last time.”

Bruce stared wide-eyed at him, unsure of what to say. Should he ask what kind of surgery? Apparently it was a procedure Tony had previously, but it was still _surgery_ , and Bruce could already feel his own nerves ratcheting up.

“Are you ok?” he ended up asking. It seemed like a good catchall for everything he wanted to say.

“It’s honestly super minor, Brucie. They just need to switch something out and we can be on our way. Promise.”

“That does absolutely nothing to answer my question.” Hesitantly, Bruce crossed the kitchen and knelt down so he could grasp Tony’s shoulder. “Seriously. Do I need to be worried about you in general, aside from the surgery?”

Tony quirked a brow, crossing his legs so he could almost lean into Bruce. “It’s fine. Just my pacemaker. For all our scientific advances the batteries still don’t last even a decade, so. Gotta deal with that.”

For all that Tony was making it sound like it was a non-issue… Bruce took a shaky breath, pulling Tony close as best he could given how they were sitting. “All right, Tones. I’ll be there with you.”

* * *

Somehow, Bruce expected it to be a lot more terrifying than it was. Tony got them to the hospital, squeezed his hand before leaving him in the waiting room, and then it was only a mildly agonizing three hour wait before he was guiding Tony to the car. He vaguely heard the instructions that the surgeon had given them, but most of it seemed fairly self-explanatory anyways and he was a little focused on getting Tony to _not_ use Bruce to support his entire body weight at the time.

It was just… Knowledge that it was there, and that Tony had put off even telling him about it until the week before he needed an operation had definitely unsettled Bruce. Once again he wondered just how much Tony kept away from him.

But then, Bruce _did_ know how much he kept away from Tony, so it probably wasn’t fair of him to judge.

Christmas came and went, blessedly, without any sort of incident outside of Tony buying him too much. Far too much when he considered that he’d gotten a ridiculous amount of birthday presents just a week prior including an ice cream cake of all things, which Tony apparently thought was great considering the poorly muffled laughter when Bruce called to ask about it.

He thought it was better when over half of the cake was still in the freezer when he came back, which Bruce couldn’t help but roll his eyes at. It was cute. Tony was cute, even though he looked more than a little exhausted after his week back home.

“I’m getting the notion that you don’t have plans for New Year’s either, huh?” Tony asked, hand-washing a mug that Bruce assumed was new.

At least, he had no memory of a ridiculously inconvenient-looking Rubix cube mug in their cabinets before, and he’d definitely remember if he’d seen Tony doing any sort of dishes by hand without complaining for five minutes first.

“You would be guessing correctly.”

Tony made a point to pull a face at that before setting to drying the new addition to his already expansive collection of mugs. “You’re such a homebody. You do know that this is the point in your life where you’re supposed to go out and explore, right?”

Really, Bruce would rather just be a homebody. So long as Tony stuck around, he didn’t have to worry about loneliness, and he got plenty of other interactions with people on campus. He didn’t need to go out on top of that. “I’m more or less living vicariously through you. Seems to be just as effective, I think.”

There was a small shrug before Tony hauled himself up on the counter, hunching over so he wouldn’t hit his head on the cupboards. “So I can’t convince you to go out with me, but I _should_ tell you all about it when I come home before midnight, right?”

“What’s the point of going out if you’re going to be home before midnight?” Bruce asked, brows drawing together a bit. Sure, he got the whole ‘New Year’s kiss’ thing, but. He wasn’t exactly sure if they were like that or not. Tony never said if they were, so… Bruce just kind of worked under the assumption that they had a rather intensive ‘friends with benefits’ thing going on. It seemed to be the safest way to go.

That seemed to bring Tony up short, aiming a look at Bruce like the answer should have been really obvious. “Starting the New Year with a bang? Plus, I’m not about to let you start the year off alone, especially since I’m pretty sure the only company you had for Christmas was me when I called you. Same with your birthday, and that’s just _sad_ , Banner.”

When it was phrased like that, Bruce couldn’t help but feel almost… like it was some kind of awful thing and that he should have minded a lot more than he did. “Holidays and such were never a big deal in my house, growing up. Really, it’s not as terrible as you’re making it out to be. Besides, I called my aunt, and you kept me on the phone for over an hour, so it wasn’t like I was lonely.”

At the very least, Tony seemed to accept that much, but clearly wasn’t ready to let the entire topic go. “You don’t talk about your family much. And I’m not sure if that’s intentional, or if it’s because I don’t talk about _my_ family much.”

Of all the paths Tony could have chosen… It wasn’t like he could claim it was out of nowhere, though. Bruce almost opened that door himself.

“It’s a little bit of both,” he admitted, gaze dropping to the floor for a brief moment. “You seem happy not talking about yours, so I don’t see a point in bringing up mine either.”

It was more true than not, honestly. Granted, it was mostly because Bruce didn’t want to talk about it, but since it never came up, that suited him just fine. It was just fewer deflections he had to make.

Tony pursed his lips a little bit, but decided to leave it at that. Blessedly.

* * *

Midnight on New Years found Bruce more or less sprawled across Tony’s lap, letting him slide his hands up the front of his shirt while their lips were pretty much sealed together. Content to just keep it like this, though he was pretty sure Tony was only a few minutes away from trying to open up someone’s pants. Which would also be fine, but it wasn’t really anything Bruce was desperate for.

The only reason he knew it was still going on at that hour was because apparently Tony had set an alarm for it, and it was probably one of the more obnoxiously cheery tones that Bruce had heard in his life.

Bruce nearly glared at Tony as he pulled away, heedless of Tony’s near-helpless laughter that he tried to bury in Bruce’s shoulder. “Really? Did you time this and everything?”

“I forgot I actually set that,” Tony admitted, snickering until Bruce tugged on his hair hard enough to draw a hiss from him as his hips stuttered up.

“You’re such an asshole.” In spite of that, Bruce couldn’t really help the overly fond smile on his face, so it couldn’t really be classified as an insult. “Go turn it off, please. That is the quickest mood killer, and I’d like to get back to making out with you.”

There was an almost sappy grin on Tony’s lips, leaning up to steal another kiss before stretching over to grab his phone. “You know I’ll do whatever you want, honey,” he said, turning off the alarm.

“That’s because you’re easy,” Bruce chided, even though he was mortified with himself mere seconds later. It was bad enough to _think_ as much, but saying it out loud?

Regardless of Bruce’s internal panicking, Tony clicked his tongue, but lost any sense of reprimand the second he smoothed his palm back up the center of Bruce’s chest. “Sure, but you’re indulgent of me which makes you just as bad.”

And really, Bruce couldn’t help but smile as he dipped down to press his lips against Tony’s. That was fair enough, he supposed. So long as he didn’t seem to mind it.

* * *

“You sure you don’t want to come with?” Tony asked, absently looking over what he had packed away in the suitcase by Bruce’s feet. “You’re sort of rich by proxy. You’ll fit right in.”

Bruce aimed an unimpressed look at Tony before looking back to his readings. As much as he enjoyed only taking two classes last semester, he couldn’t really afford to slack like that forever so the second spring semester had started, Bruce had been back to a full course load. “I’d objectively rather get eaten by sharks than try and schmooze with board members of a company that has sweatshops open in southeast Asia.”

Tony whistled lowly, brows raised. “Harsh, Banner. You know it’s going to be mine someday, right?”

Right. Of course it would be; Tony was supposedly the sole heir to the company, but it wasn’t something that registered on Bruce’s radar that often. It seemed like some sort of abstract thing, like how he recognized that his high school teachers probably had lives outside of making his life hell. “In another two or three decades, sure. I’m also hoping that by then it’ll either be fixed, or you’ll fix it yourself so I don’t have to get huffy with you about it.”

There was something warm that flitted across Tony’s expression, and it almost seemed out of place considering what they were talking about. “Planning on sticking around another thirty years, Brucie? Almost sounds like the kind of thing that’s going to result in a wedding if you’re not careful.”

The thought of that… Vaguely, he was reminded of the first time Tony mentioned becoming rich by proxy via marriage. That flit of nerves in his stomach that made him want to curl up and deny it. “You know I’m always careful, though,” he pointed out, just to distract him. “You complain about it constantly.”

Apparently it worked, since Tony was quick to pin him with an accusatory glare. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how I work, though. Your safety lectures are unnecessary.”

Bruce reached out, grasping Tony’s right hand and sliding his thumb along the thin scar along his middle finger from last spring. While it had blessedly healed up well, it still left behind a mark that was visible if someone was looking for it. “Unnecessary, right.”

Tony pulled a face, but seemed content to stay where he was, leaning over the bed with Bruce more or less holding his hand. “It’s nice, though. That you want to stick around that long.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he tugged Tony down to kiss his cheek. “Finish packing, all right? The sooner you go, the sooner you can leave.”

Whether or not that was true, Tony _did_ get back to re-checking his luggage. And he definitely made a point to spend a few minutes curled up against Bruce’s side before he had to make the drive.

It always worried Bruce when he did the traveling himself, especially considering how late at night he tended to leave. He didn’t actually relax until Tony texted him hours later saying that he’d arrived. Usually accompanied with a picture of _something_.

This time, it was a rather dead-looking houseplant that was only captioned with ‘you, if you don’t get out more’.

* * *

Bruce probably shouldn’t have been surprised when Tony came back dead-sober two days later. He’d driven his own car; of course he wasn’t going to be drinking. But still, it was infrequent enough that he was automatically a little bit worried.

“Everything go ok?” he asked, pulling the covers back.

There was a bitter twist to Tony’s mouth as he unfastened his jeans and shoved them roughly off his hips. “Have I mentioned how much I hate company functions? Because I hate company functions. Thanks for mentioning the sweatshops by the way; that was definitely on my mind the entire time I was there trying to enjoy my champagne.”

“They know you’re not old enough to drink, right?”

Tony scoffed, tugging off his shirt in another harsh motion before actually climbing into bed. “Do you really think they care? They don’t expect any better from me either way.”

And if that wasn’t sad, Bruce wasn’t sure what was. There wasn’t even anything he could say to that because, well… He was pretty sure Tony was honestly right about that. So he just pulled him close and pressed his palm between Tony’s bare shoulder blades.

“I expect a lot out of you, though. Don’t think you can get away with being aimless for the rest of your life, because I know you can do better than that.”

Bruce could practically feel the small smile as Tony started to relax against him, and that alone was enough to almost make Bruce feel settled as well. “You know, that almost sounds like a threat. Going to hold me accountable, dear?”

He pressed his lips to Tony’s temple, making a point to nudge one of his knees between Tony’s purely because he missed him over the two days he had been gone. “Yeah. You’ve got five years to get your shit together. But I’m pretty sure you can do it in three.”

Tony shifted almost impatiently before nudging Bruce’s leg up higher and falling still. “Yeah, all right. I’ll see what I can do.”

A small smile tugged at Bruce’s lips, even if it faltered a little when Tony tucked his hands under the back of his shirt. While he was pretty sure there weren’t any scars immediately under Tony’s touch, it was a little too close to them for Bruce to actually be comfortable.

But he didn’t want to have him move, or tell him to be careful. He just wanted to act like everything was normal and fine. Like _he_ was normal and fine, and that he didn’t get skittish every time Tony made to pull off his shirt or drag his hand down Bruce’s bare back.

“You’re really tense,” Tony commented, voice soft. His palm slid up, likely trying to offer comfort or make it better.

It didn’t even take half a second for Bruce to pull away, a knot firmly lodged in his throat, and he _hated_ it. But he hated the idea of Tony knowing even more. “Sorry,” he muttered, moving Tony’s hands to rest over his shirt instead.

Tony bit down on the inside of his cheek before turning over so that he could be more of a little spoon.

He didn’t start to ask, though, and Bruce was honestly grateful for that.

It wasn’t healthy. The therapist told him multiple times that, while he didn’t need to tell Tony anything, he shouldn’t be actively trying to hide anything either. That didn’t mean he wanted to put the weight of any of it on Tony, especially right now when he had his own shit to deal with without Bruce adding to it.

“I hate how much you don’t tell me, you know. You’re not the only one who worries.”

Bruce swallowed thickly, tucking his face against the back of Tony’s neck. “It’s all in the past,” he insisted. “It’s all right, now.”

There was a sigh, and Tony started shuffling and tugging Bruce until his arms and legs were draped over him. Still keeping him close in spite of his frustration. “Somehow that doesn’t make it any better.” There was a pause, and Bruce could feel the new kind of tension in him. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m not going to… I won’t make you. But it would be nice if you did.”

The fact that Tony hadn’t gone looking was a bit of a blessing, in Bruce’s opinion. Curiosity was definitely one of his worse vices, he was pretty sure that all the red tape in the world couldn’t keep Tony out if he was bound and determined to look him up.

“It’s not that I want to keep it from you,” he said carefully, trying to choose his words. Wanting to avoid hurting him any more than he may have already. “I just… I don’t like having to say any of it. I don’t like _hearing_ myself say it, I guess.”

Somehow, he could feel Tony frowning at that. But he didn’t actively start to argue against it, or offer alternatives. Instead, all he said was, “You’re just as much of a mess as I am, huh?”

And really, Bruce couldn’t deny it. More often than not, he thought he might actually be worse than Tony.

Tony gently squeezed Bruce’s hand before dragging it to rest over his heart. “We’ll sort it out. Five years to get our shit together, right?”

Bruce huffed out a laugh, burying himself as best he could around Tony. “Five years,” he agreed. It would be enough time, surely. For both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's a whole lot of plot again! And a lot of moving time, because that's what I like? I'm really blown away by the response to the last chapter, by the way. Definitely made the long-writing time worth it because I take /forever/ to write smutty things


	9. Chapter 9

It was weird realizing how close he’d already gotten to his Bachelor’s degree without even noticing. He’d thought he still had a long ways to go, but apparently there was only about a year left before he was done and could theoretically go out into the world.

His advisor had been… less than helpful. Or, more to say, his first advisor had been less than helpful and his new one had just assumed that he’d been told a lot of this before so hadn’t bothered with it until now.

“What if I do graduate work after all of this?” Bruce asked, pretending to look into his current research project. Really, it was more him going down a wormhole of Wikipedia articles, and he didn’t _actually_ mean to click on the link that sent him to the movie synopsis of ‘Teeth’ but here he was anyways so he might as well.

Tony didn’t look up from the innards of his coffee machine when he answered. “Remember when I said you had a good professional name? You’re going to want credentials to back it up. It’d go well with doctor, if you want to go that far.”

Bruce snorted, smiling wryly. “Is that why you didn’t get yours? Doctor Stark just didn’t sound nice?”

“A doctorate would be wasted on me,” Tony replied archly, turning his nose for a brief moment before sinking back into his work just as quickly. “I’m not big on academia, actually. I’d rather, you know, do the practical work than sit in a classroom and be lectured at. Plus, Doctor Bruce Banner sounds better than Doctor Anthony Stark, so I figured I’d let you deal with that part.”

He didn’t bother correcting Tony that he would technically be ‘Doctor Robert Banner’, deciding that wasn’t a hill he wanted to bicker on. “I wasn’t aware this was a single-doctor relationship.” He had to pause a moment after he heard himself say that. It wasn’t exactly a relationship, was it? Whatever it was they were doing.

Tony waved ineffectively, still prodding at the inner workings of the machine with a ridiculously thin screwdriver. “I’m making this speech up as I go. Point is, I wanted to get out of school as fast as I could while still having the qualifications I needed. You, on the other hand, seem to actually _like_ the whole higher-learning thing, so by all means, keep going. I have no plans of moving anywhere, so you don’t worry about having a place to live.”

Vaguely, he wondered how long Tony actually planned on staying here. Was it just until Bruce finished his degrees? It wouldn’t make sense for him to stay forever, especially since he _did_ go back to New York on a semi-regular basis. It didn’t even make sense for him to stay here as it was.

Though, Bruce didn’t particularly want to have that talk. Not when the answer could possibly shake things up so much. He’d worry about it when it drew a little bit closer.

“So what I’m hearing is it might have actually been more practical to just buy a place, with how long we seem to be sticking around,” he said instead of voicing any of that.

Tony shrugged, grabbing a soldering iron. “Who knows. Either way, I’m not packing everything up in boxes again, so we’re staying here.”

While that probably was only part of the reason, it still set Bruce at ease a little bit. Somehow, he’d come to trust that Tony was going to stick around with him, and it was nice that it seemed to extend to things that weren’t entirely convenient for him.

Figuring that he wasn’t _actually_ going to get any work done, he shut down his computer and straightened himself up. “Hey,” he said softly, reaching across the table to touch the back of Tony’s wrist, waiting for his eyes to tear away from his project. Whatever it was he was trying to do with it. “Come take a break with me.”

There was a quirked brow, but Tony actually set down his tools. “Is that a come-on, or is that you legitimately just wanting to take a bit of a break?”

Not even a year ago, Bruce probably wouldn’t have even entertained the thought of the former. As it was, he still dropped his gaze and felt his face warm at the connotation he’d deliberately left for Tony. “Either one. I can’t say that I’m picky about it.”

“You’re not picky about anything. It’s a little off putting sometimes.” Still, Tony shrugged a bit as he flipped his hand over to grasp Bruce’s wrist. “I’ll pick the generalities on the condition that you pick the specifics. Deal?”

Bruce wrinkled his nose, tugging Tony onto his feet. “Is there a problem with me being versatile? I thought that was a sought-after trait.”

“Yeah, but you tend to actively avoid making as many decisions as you can. Which, you know, might be a problem at some point.” In spite of that, Tony still guided Bruce closer to brush their lips together for a brief kiss. “Think you can justify taking a break long enough to learn how to suck me off? I can give you a demonstration first, since you were a little unfocused last time I showed you,” he said lowly.

Somehow, in spite of the only passing interest in _actually_ taking things in that direction, Tony’s words had his thoughts spiraling with only the slightest bit of prompting. “I thought you wanted me to choose how we were going to arrange ourselves,” he said, wincing at how dry his throat felt.

Tony smirked easy as anything as he started towing Bruce towards their room. “Just offering a suggestion. We’re free to do whatever you want, dear.”

Of course he said that _now_ , after the thought had already been implanted in Bruce’s head. After he was already considering what it might be like.

The only other time they tried it, Tony had been… enthusiastic, to say the least. To the point where he came with Bruce’s cock in his throat, rutting against the mattress. Which meant Bruce hadn’t really been able to return the favor and had spent several minutes reassuring Tony that he really didn’t mind so long as Tony got off on it.

“We’ll see what happens,” Bruce eventually said, closing the door behind them in spite of the fact that they were the only ones there. They could fuck in the kitchen and wouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing or walking in.

Still, it seemed like he _should_ close the door. If there was a lock, Bruce probably would have fastened that as well.

It felt almost too soon before he had Tony pressed against his chest, one arm firmly wrapped around his ribs to keep him in place while his other hand was tucked inside Tony’s open pants.

“I feel like you’re going to turn into the guy with the kinky sex dungeon,” Tony muttered, shoulders digging in as he arched back and pushed himself down against Bruce’s fingers.

“I’m pretty sure that’s only going to happen if you build one and ask me to use it with you,” he countered, pressing his fingertips against the smooth skin behind his balls.

The angle was awkward, and he could feel the zipper digging into his wrist even with the fabric of Tony’s briefs acting as a barrier. Still, Bruce didn’t want to take the time to actually drag everything off of him right now, so it was going to stay that way for a while.

There was a soft moan as Tony tried to shuffle his legs further apart. “God, you’d probably go along with it too… You tend to do whatever I ask; it’s amazing.”

Bruce scoffed, pressing firmly against the delicate space and watching as Tony jolted. “I like watching you enjoy yourself. Is that really such a bad thing?”

There was a soft, contemplative humming as Tony tipped his head back to rest against Bruce’s shoulder. “It’s kind of hot, actually? Like, in a weird way, but not in a bad-weird way, if that makes sense.”

“You think a lot of how I approach this is weird.” At this point, he almost didn’t feel wrong-footed about that fact anymore. It wasn’t like Tony’s sex life had ever been normal either; it could very well be that Bruce was the one processing this normally, though he kind of doubted that.

They just approached it from two differently odd angles and somehow met in the middle anyways.

“Your general insistence that one or both of us remains partially clothed _is_ weird. Seriously, this can’t be entirely comfortable for either of us.”

Bruce shrugged, starting to maneuver his hand back up a bit so he could press the heel of it against the thickness of his shaft. “Maybe I do it solely to annoy you.”

He was pretty sure Tony wrinkled his nose, but the effect was ruined by the laxness in the rest of his expression. “You’re such a dick.”

Bruce hid a smile in the crook of Tony’s neck, well aware that was something that Tony actively enjoyed about him so long as he wasn’t on the receiving end of it.

He _did_ decide to be nice though, pulling his hand out and grasping at the waist of his jeans. “Lift up for me?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation before Tony was bracing himself against Bruce before lifting himself up in a way that _definitely_ couldn’t feel good, but it was a gorgeous sight. Tony’s hips flexed, thighs holding strong and maybe Bruce took a little longer than necessary to drag his clothes down to see if Tony could actually hold it.

It was kind of amazing that his muscles didn’t start trembling even after fifteen seconds, if Bruce was being honest.

“That’s beautiful,” Bruce murmured, smoothing his palms against Tony’s waist. “You’re kind of a show off, you know that?”

In spite of how easy it looked, Tony’s voice held a little strain. “But you like to watch, so I think that works out pretty well.” As he spoke, Tony rolled his body back down onto the mattress, and Bruce didn’t even want to think about how much practice must have gone into making that look as good as it did.

“You just had to frame it like a kink…” Still, Bruce was quick to part Tony’s legs further and tuck his knuckles back against his perineum. “Is that good?”

There was a little shifting, including Tony pressing down more firmly against Bruce’s hand before his eyes fluttered shut. “Yeah, honey. It’s good.”

A small smile touched Bruce’s lips as he kissed the back of Tony’s neck. “Good. I’m glad.”

He took his time, re-exploring and figuring out what worked and what didn’t. Of course, what worked wasn’t always practical, but Bruce tried to file it away anyways just in case he found a way to drag his nails along the insides of his wrists without it feeling forced.

“That’s it,” Bruce found himself murmuring as he watched the blush creeping down Tony’s neck as he felt around his chest. As he pushed his thumb into the notch between his collarbones.

“I can’t tell if you’re deliberately being a tease, or if you’re _still_ trying to figure things out,” Tony said, reaching down to take himself in hand.

More than likely, it was a little bit of both, but it wasn’t anything that Bruce wanted to directly answer. He hummed softly, experimentally covering Tony’s throat with his hand so he could _feel_ the surprised sound it drew out of him. “But you seem to like it, so I don’t see a problem here,” he nearly mocked as he grasped Tony’s hip to pull him back to press a little more firmly against him.

Almost as if that was what he was waiting for, Tony made a point to grind his bare ass against Bruce’s cock, a low sound caught in his throat. “I like most of what you do to me. I think that’s kind of a given at this point.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, covering Tony’s hand with his own and squeezing it around his length. “You just like when people touch you in general.” Not that Bruce was about to complain, since it seemed like he was almost the only one that he was this affectionate with at the moment. But he’d yet to see Tony shy away from almost any kind of touch so long as he wasn’t in the middle of something.

Tony hummed, leaning his head back on Bruce’s shoulder and giving him a view of the long line of his throat, even as it was mostly obscured by Bruce’s hand. “But I _especially_ like it when you touch me, so you’re still special.”

He couldn’t pretend like that didn’t make him smile, even as he pressed it against the crook of Tony’s neck. “You’re special too, you know. To me.” As he spoke, he dragged Tony’s hand up his own shaft, prompting him to stroke himself a little faster. “Show me what you like,” he insisted softly, returning his free hand to rest just at the base of his throat.

“Making me do all the work?” Tony asked, seeming to not notice the raspiness of his own voice. Regardless, he was quick to obey, spreading his legs wide and sliding both of their hands down until Tony was pressing at the skin around his hole. Never actually pushing in, but still rubbing firmly against it.

It was… Well, of course Bruce figured that they were going to get to this point eventually. But he couldn’t help but think that this was maybe just a little unsanitary, even if Tony didn’t seem to have any qualms. Then again, it was Tony’s body. He’d probably know if it was all right or not. He still watched with rapt attention as Tony played with himself.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Bruce insisted, even though Tony was quick to abandon his ass in favor of rolling his balls in his hand.

He watched as Tony swallowed almost convulsively, plucking at the thin skin for a few moments before returning to palming them. “I know what I’m doing.”

While Bruce didn’t actually doubt that, it was still a little nerve-wracking. Even more so when Tony maneuvered his other hand under Bruce’s to drag it away from his neck and let them slide under his shirt.

“You’re fine,” Tony promised, probably able to feel how Bruce had started tensing up again. “You’re following my lead, all right? There’s nothing for you to overthink.”

While that was true in Tony’s mind, it sure as hell felt like there was a lot for him to screw up, even if he was literally just feeling how Tony’s hands slid over himself. How he took care to pause over his ribs, and pressed his palm over his cockhead.

It was a little off-putting, even though he certainly wasn’t about to complain about the opportunity to get at least a second-hand feel for him. And the oddness of it was definitely offset by the fact that he got to see just what it was that got Tony to squeeze his eyes shut, or fuck up into his own fist.

Bruce bit down on the inside of his cheek, making Tony squeeze a little tighter and drawing a soft moan out of him with ease. As strange as it felt if he thought about it too hard, if he just… If he just let it happen, and just focused on Tony, it was fine. It was even _good_ , so long as he just didn’t try to analyze any of it too much.

So he kept following Tony’s lead, how he went from stroking himself to pressing against his perineum, and would pinch at his nipples with his other hand. How he’d pause every few strokes to collect the wetness beading out of the slit and then hiss when he slid it all down his length again in one smooth motion.

It was mesmerizing. Especially combined with how Tony started to push himself up into his own hands, breathing harshly as he wound himself up further and further.

“Definitely a better idea in real life than it sounded on paper,” Tony muttered, eyes fluttering back open.

By this point, his legs were pretty well spread out over Bruce’s and Bruce had taken to sucking open mouth kisses along the length of Tony’s neck. Not hard enough to actually leave a bruise, he hoped, but enough that Tony had arched himself back to open himself up to it.

Bruce lifted his head up enough to ask, “Did it look like a bad idea on paper to begin with?” and couldn’t help but grin at the breathless laugh from Tony.

“Always seemed like a good idea, but it feels more like a great idea right now.” Tony reached back, carding a hand back through Bruce’s hair to urge him back down.

And, really, that wasn’t even a hardship. He traced over the muscle with his tongue, as if he was trying to memorize the salty tang of skin, feeling Tony’s moan vibrating against his lips.

Maybe he got a little overzealous, but he was overly aware of how jagged the rhythm of Tony’s hand had gotten as well as how hot it felt like he was running, and Bruce didn’t even think twice before biting down, scraping his teeth against Tony’s neck.

Almost instantly, Tony seized up with a sharp gasp, tremors running through him.

Bruce could hardly look away, as odd as an angle he had at that moment. The way Tony’s chest heaved, the way he tried to draw his knees together even as thick white ropes of his release spilled over their hands.

And then all at once, Tony went slack. Still cradling his softening cock in his hand as he slid down Bruce’s chest a bit.

Tony blinked a little dazedly at him, and something in Bruce’s heart twisted a little painfully at the sight. “Want me to return the favor?” he asked softly, though he didn’t move to actually reach for Bruce just yet. Seeming content to just lay spent between Bruce’s legs.

“You’re just fine,” Bruce insisted, absently rubbing circles over Tony’s clavicle, letting his shirt acted as a barrier between their skin.

Apparently he was present enough to aim a disbelieving look at him, awkwardly reaching back to press his clean palm against Bruce’s erection. “You sure about that? It’s not even remotely an inconvenience for me. Besides, it’s a give-take thing and I’m just as fond of giving as I am taking.”

“That was a very roundabout way of saying you’re versatile too, but I’m really fine,” he said, moving Tony’s hand away but kissing his fingers as an apology.

Fine, it might be nice to get himself off, and god knew his body was more than willing to get in the game, but…

It wasn’t anything urgent. There wasn’t that pressing need that insisted he take Tony up on his offer and let him, even though he was so willing to do so. He’d much rather just enjoy the closeness that they had right now rather than deal with it.

There was a soft, discontented hum but Tony didn’t actively push the issue. Probably chalking it up to more of Bruce’s weirdness, which suited him just fine.

It wasn’t like he had a better explanation for it.

* * *

In theory, a nine A.M. lecture hadn’t sounded like an awful idea. It was maybe around the time he normally woke up, so shifting that maybe an hour or so earlier twice a week didn’t sound terrible.

Bruce had been very wrong, and every Monday and Wednesday he wondered how he managed to get himself up at six for three years back in high school, because getting up at eight was a special sort of hell.

It was even worse considering Tony was usually up and _doing_ things at that hour, as if it was totally normal.

“So, what if I wanted you to come back to New York with me for the summer?”

Bruce frowned a bit, unsure how Tony managed to look so awake at this hour when he’d crawled into their bed less than six hours ago. And somehow he was still up and fiddling with the coffee machine again.

Though, there were two new Starbucks cups abandoned around the kitchen, which would explain at least part of the wakefulness.

“I still have to take classes, you know. I can’t take the semester off,” he said carefully. Though, he very well _could_ take the semester off and they both knew it. He was already ahead as it was, but he wasn’t sure what he would do with himself with that much time off. Especially since he was pretty sure Tony wouldn’t want to go back for longer than two weeks anyways.

“I’m not hearing a ‘no’, in spite of all the worrying I’m sure you’re doing over it.” Tony gestured to the paper bag on the counter. “Also, I picked up breakfast so you didn’t have to worry about that before you go to class.”

_That_ was a little weird. Not exceedingly, because Bruce could still think of things Tony had done that had thrown him off more in less than three seconds, but. Definitely not normal. “Is this what your actual bribery looks like, or is this your nervous energy acting back up again?”

Tony wrinkled his nose, looking up from the coffee machine. “A little bit of both? But it’s really just cheap pancakes; my _actual_ actual bribery is a lot more impressive and would probably involve buying all your books next semester. So no pressure about the whole ‘meet my parents’ thing.”

The thought of it nearly made Bruce wince. Not strictly because he was opposed to meeting Tony’s family, it was just…

He knew who his parents were. His father had built up a reputation of being charming but ruthless when it came to business, and Bruce was pretty sure he’d wilt in his presence. Which wasn’t something he wanted to put Tony through, since he was probably asking him to be there as some sort of moral support.

“Is this something that you need decided right now, or can I think about it?” he ended up asking.

“If I say ‘right now’, what are the odds of you saying yes? And before you decide, it would only be a few days and then you can come back home and still take your classes with absolutely no issues.”

And really, it was diplomatic enough that Bruce didn’t want to outright say no to him. Even if the last thing he wanted to do was stay with Tony’s parents, since he already lived on Stark hospitality as it was.

Bruce sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and tell him there was no chance regardless of when he asked. “Yeah, sure. Why not,” he ended up saying instead, not even trying to hide the grimace.

The open relief that spread across Tony’s face really made it worth the trouble, in his opinion. He just had to hope that the rest of the Starks were as easy to manage as Tony was.

Well. As easy to manage as Tony was when he _wanted_ to be managed, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again (: So a couple quick things. I've almost got this fic finished writing-wise, so I may start posting more frequently once I've gotten that done, and do a bi-weekly update thing. The second thing is, once this is done I /might/ do a couple one-shots for this AU with snapshots during and after, so that might be something to look for after this one is completed.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, leaving kudos, bookmarking, etc. You all are amazing <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for discussion of child abuse, both past and present

Tony had insisted that they drive to Manhattan. He  _ also  _ insisted that they do it at night, probably hoping either that Bruce would sleep through the trip, or that his parents would be asleep when they arrived.

Granted, he denied that first claim the second Bruce brought it up, especially since Bruce had intentionally phrased it to make it sound like Tony was the one treating  _ him  _ like a kid at that moment.

Which was definitely worth it for the near-pout Tony had worn the a little under an hour afterwards.

Bruce’s first impression upon seeing the practical mansion that Tony pulled up to was… Well, apprehension would be putting it mildly. While he recognized that it was late enough that he shouldn’t be meeting anyone until morning, this wasn’t the kind of life he was accustomed to. In spite of Tony’s insistence that he’d been ‘rich by proxy’ for over a year now, it didn’t really feel like he was. He still kept budgets and still worried over his tuition. He cut costs wherever he could justify it. The world of large homes and nice cars still seemed ridiculously far away from his reality.

“I can feel you worrying, you know. You’ll be all right,” Tony insisted, reaching over to squeeze his hand as soon as he shut the car off.

Bruce pulled a face in spite of the fact that he squeezed back, taking an extra second to trace over the small callouses along Tony’s index finger as he pulled his hand away. “You don’t know that for sure, but thank you anyways.”

Of course Tony had tutted at that, but he didn’t try and convince Bruce any further. He just grabbed both of their bags and led him inside, arms linked together.

In spite of the darkness, Tony didn’t seem to have any issues navigating them up the stairs and through a few winding halls before stopping in front of one of the closed doors.

“They know we’re coming, right?” Bruce asked softly. It hadn’t really occurred to him earlier to ask, but now he wondered if he should have.

It looked like Tony shrugged, though Bruce was more focused on the sound of a set of keys jangling before the door opened and Tony flipped the lights on. “Unless they forgot, yeah. I mean, my mom will definitely remember, but who knows about Howard. And considering he might not be around, I’m counting him as a non-issue until he’s physically in front of me.”

Part of Bruce wanted to ask if there was a story there. And he would probably be well within bounds to ask if there  _ was  _ a story there, but…

At the end of the day, he didn’t want to dredge up anything Tony didn’t want to talk about, so he settled for wrapping an arm around Tony’s shoulder for a brief moment instead. “All right, Tony,” he said softly, feeling at least some of the tension leak out of the other’s posture.

Bruce, though, would admit to feeling even more nervous now than before. He was going to have to stay stable for Tony, and he worried that he wouldn’t quite be able to.

* * *

When he woke up, Tony was playing with his hair. Tony was playing with his hair, and Bruce had at some point ended up with his head in Tony’s lap in a bed that felt ridiculously soft and had entirely too many blankets on it.

“Finally awake, sleeping beauty?” he teased softly, nails scratching gently against Bruce’s scalp.

“Surprised you’re still in bed.” Bruce stretched, feeling the residual stiffness from the drive here. It was a pretty solid reminder of why Bruce didn’t like traveling all that much.

Bruce rubbed his eyes, feeling the grit of sleep under his knuckles before he sat up. In the clear light of day, he actually took the time to look around what he was assuming was Tony’s bedroom. Unlike the dorms they shared, as well as their current apartment, it was very… bland, actually.

Bruce had come to associate Tony’s spaces with a sort of haphazard organization and a lot of unfinished projects laying around. While there were a few posters on the walls, and more than a few medals and certificates set up here, there was very little here to mark the space as Tony’s. More like a showroom than a place that he actually had lived.

“What time is it, anyways?”

Tony hummed, reaching over to almost tug against his hair which was enough to make Bruce wince. “A little after ten. You’re not actually sleeping in that late right now. I mean, you might have missed breakfast but that’s about it.”

That was almost disappointing, though it was also a bit of a relief. He didn’t want Tony’s parents thinking he was some sort of lazy freeloader, but he also didn’t really want to meet them. “Anything I should be prepared for beforehand?”

While it looked like Tony was perfectly calm, Bruce picked up on the slight tightening of his mouth. “I think you’ll be fine. My mom’s very tactile, though? Which shouldn’t be a problem, since you’re fine when  _ I’m _ tactile with you. Um, dad’s standoffish. Hopefully he’s not here, but don’t call him on any of his bullshit if he is.”

Promising. Bruce’s mouth twisted into a grimace. It would be like a less intense version of how he had acted around his own father, then. He took a slow breath before saying, “All right. That’s easy enough.”

It looked like there was a moment of hesitation before Tony pulled him in, kissing his temple. “Thank you for coming with. For what it’s worth, I’m pretty damn sure my mom’s going to like you, and that’s what matters at the end of the day.”

Bruce tried not to smile, ruffling a hand through Tony’s already-disheveled hair. “I should have known you were a bit of a mama’s boy. It’s cute.”

“ _ You’re _ cute,” Tony fired back almost immediately. As if that was actually some kind of proper comeback.

Really, it was hard to remain anxious and apprehensive when Tony was there and being sweet. Hard, but definitely not impossible.

* * *

Letting his guard down even a little bit had been a mistake. From the start it had seemed to go wrong, and as much as Tony promised that everything would be fine, and that his mother was the best, Bruce felt something off from her from the second she greeted Tony by asking if he was actually going to stick around for once.

Things may have been strained, but it was at least relatively peaceful for three days. Some pointed comments from Maria, but nothing truly awful until Howard came back from a business trip. And if he thought the meeting with Tony’s mother had been awkward, it paled in comparison to how the introduction to Howard Stark had gone, in spite of Tony’s claims that if Bruce didn’t shy away but also didn’t argue that it would be fine. That Howard would more or less accept it and move on.

He didn’t realize that doing so would lead to Howard tearing into Tony at every turn in a painfully casual manner.

“I feel like I should have gotten more warning than I was given,” Bruce said softly, locking the bedroom door as if that would somehow keep the world out.

Tony shrugged, hands slow as he tugged his pants off and firmly keeping his back to Bruce. “Normally it’s not quite that bad. A few snide comments and then he’s on his way. Guess he was trying to show off or something.”

The thought made him shudder, the memory of Howard saying that maybe Bruce could ‘keep his son in line’ fresh in his mind.

He was slow in approaching Tony, making sure he had plenty of time to pull away if he wanted to. When it became clear that he wasn’t immediately going anywhere., Bruce wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, propping his chin on his shoulder. “We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

It almost sounded like Tony laughed before clasping his hand over Bruce’s wrists as he leaned back against him. “I was kind of hoping that this would go better, to be honest. You know, meet the parents, everyone’s on good behavior, there’s some bickering but no one feels like shit after…” Tony sighed, head falling back. “I don’t want to keep you here if it’s going to be miserable. And it’s probably going to be miserable unless dear old Howard leaves again. Which is likely, but not a guarantee.”

“It’s your call,” Bruce insisted, smoothing circles against Tony’s stomach. As much as he wanted to leave, and as much as he was sure  _ Tony  _ wanted to leave, he didn’t want to make the decision to drag him away from his family.

Even if his family wasn’t exactly good, in Bruce’s opinion.

There were several seconds where Tony just seemed content to stay close to Bruce without saying a word. Several seconds where Bruce listened carefully to Tony’s barely unsteady breathing.

“You’re going to have to make up the excuse why we’re leaving early,” Tony finally said, voice ridiculously even. “And we’re probably going to have to try and pick up ice cream before we get home.”

It was hard not to slump with relief. While he doubted they’d have an easy time finding places that were still open once they got close enough to home, Bruce couldn’t say he minded the conditions too terribly much. “Just tell them that I forgot about a doctor’s appointment that I can’t miss. It’ll be fine.”

Bruce could practically hear Tony rolling his eyes, but he seemed to steady himself enough to pull away from Bruce’s grasp to start packing what few things they’d actually gotten out as well as pulling his clothes back on. “You’re still going to have to be the one to say it, but all right.”

“Because I’ve got a trustworthy face?” he teased, hoping to at least help lighten the mood.

“And they know I have no qualms lying to them, yeah.”

It was hard not to grimace but he couldn’t say he blamed Tony, for the bluntness  _ or  _ the deception. Bruce would take any opportunity to get away that he could as well.

He was more than grateful that they only passingly ran into Maria on the way out, and that he managed to stumble through his explanation and apology convincingly enough that she kissed his cheek and wished him luck before Tony continued towing him to the car.

The drive home was louder than the trip there, with Tony insisting on playing classic rock until they were out of New York and turning the volume up louder than necessary once they passed the state line.

“Are you going to be ok?” Bruce asked.

Tony sighed heavily, hands tightening on the steering wheel momentarily. “I wanted that to go better for your sake. And now I’m wondering if things would have  _ gotten  _ better if we stayed, but you looked uncomfortable as hell just meeting my  _ mom _ . And then my dad showed up and it got worse, and I know you get tripped up in your own head the longer you’re in stressful situations so I was trying to avoid that, and just…”

Bruce sighed, not sure what to even say to that. Maybe he had some underlying prejudices from last year about how the Starks didn’t even call on Tony’s eighteenth birthday, and how Tony didn’t seem to interact with them outside of company functions, and he never came back happy from those. He was even less content now that he stopped drinking at them as much.

“It felt like the first thing she did was make a dig at you,” he eventually said, reaching out to touch the back of Tony’s wrist. “And I’m probably a lot more sensitive to that kind of thing because of my own family issues, but it just didn’t sit right with me. And then your dad…”

Even in the dim light, Bruce could see Tony’s grimace. He let go of the wheel so he could grasp Bruce’s hand. “Not the kind of impression I wanted you to have of my home life, I’ll admit. She’s just frustrated that I never come home is all.”

Vaguely, Bruce wondered if it was always like that for Tony. If that was what constituted as ‘normal’ for him. It was a sad thing to consider, really.

“You should come to mine, someday. When we can find a week or so to get away, because my family is marginally further away than yours and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to drive all the way to Ohio.” And like hell was Bruce going to let him make that drive even if Tony  _ did _ want to.

It was at least marginally soothing when Tony took to drawing small circles on the back of his hand, a slight smile on his lips even as he didn’t so much as glance away from the mostly-empty stretch of highway. “You make it sound so domestic, Brucie. Like I should consider getting nicer curtains and start buying you sweaters for Christmas.”

“You  _ did _ buy me a sweater for Christmas,” Bruce pointed out. 

It had been a hideous green affair with a vaguely menorah-looking  print on it that Bruce had put on for one picture before hiding it away in a drawer. It hadn’t even been comfortable enough for him to justify wearing on a regular basis. He hadn’t asked  _ why _ Tony bought him something like that because it seemed at least marginally rude and he’d been distracted by the fact that Tony had also given him some pretty salacious toys that Bruce refused to so much as look at if he could help it.

“Oh.” Tony paused for a beat, brow furrowing. “I forgot about that. I guess I can cross that off the list then; that’s a weird thought.”

Bruce snorted, raising their hands so he could kiss the back of Tony’s. “What kind of list includes ‘buy Bruce a sweater’?”

“It’s a domesticity list. Don’t worry about it.”

That really just served to raise his brows in either confusion or trepidation. “Do I want to know why you have a domesticity list going?”

“I’ll show you when it’s done; don’t worry about it,” Tony repeated, squeezing Bruce’s hand.

Honestly, it just seemed easier to leave it at that. Bruce mentally filed it away and tried to put it out of his mind until Tony was ready to talk about that as well.

“You’re ridiculous, but all right.” Bruce finally let go of Tony’s hand, making a point to turn the music down. “Don’t crash, ok? And wake me up when we’re almost home.”

Tony hummed an affirmative, and Bruce couldn’t help but smile fondly at him even as he curled up in the passenger seat. While he probably wouldn’t  _ actually _ sleep, it would be nice to at least get some semblance of rest.

Though, judging by the fact that Tony woke him up by gently shaking his shoulder god-knew how much later, Bruce had actually passed out at some point during the drive.

“C’mon, big guy. We’ve got three flights of stairs to contend with,” Tony chided, and Bruce could  _ hear _ the smile in his voice.

Bruce groaned, pressing his palms against his eyes as if that would stave off some of the grogginess that came with sleeping for less than two hours. “What happened to ‘wake me up  _ before _ we get home’?” he asked, belatedly realizing that the car was already off.

Tony laughed softly, combing a hand through Bruce’s hair. “You looked tired, so I figured I would let you be until I needed to get you up. Which would be now because I can promise you a bed is more comfortable than these seats, and I’m pretty sure I can’t physically carry you there.”

While that was true, Bruce was also reluctant to so much as move, though he climbed out without any additional prompting. “I’ll handle the bags this time,” he insisted, even though they weren’t substantial. Tony had still been the one dragging them along the entire ill-advised trip.

As briefly as they’d been gone, Bruce was pretty sure that they wouldn’t be leaving again for quite a while. Though, Bruce would admit to being loathe to letting Tony go back alone again, if that was what he dealt with every time.

“I want to show you something,” Bruce said, carefully closing their bedroom door.

Absently, he wondered when he started thinking of it like that. As ‘their room’ instead of ‘his room’.

Tony eyed him warily, already flipping on the lamps so he could switch off the overhead light. “That sounds ominous. Is it supposed to sound ominous or is that just happenstance?”

Really, Bruce couldn’t brush it off as happenstance, though he mentally scoffed at Tony using the word. “It’s nothing awful? I mean it is, but it’s past-awful and I don’t want you to freak out about it.”

Tony grimaced, already disrobing again before settling on the bed. “Why do I feel like you’re about to do something you’re going to regret in the morning? That’s usually my thing, and you were living vicariously through me in that regard.”

While Tony was right… God, Bruce was probably going to spend at least a day avoiding him like the plague if this didn’t go well. But he wanted to explain; he didn’t want to keep hiding everything. “It’s not how I wanted to tell you about it, at least,” Bruce allowed, fiddling with the hem of his oversized shirt, sitting on the edge of the bed facing Tony.

It would be fine. Tony wasn’t going to freak out.

Tony probably  _ was _ going to freak out, but Bruce couldn’t really think in those terms or he’d never actually go through with this.

He wasn’t aware that his hands were barely shaking until after Tony pressed his own over them. “Unless you have Voldemort under there, it’s fine. I’m not going to run out of the room screaming, and I’m still going to think you’re hot.”

Bruce pulled a face, nose wrinkling as he tried not to laugh. “I have some really bad news for you, in that case,” he said flatly, almost smiling at the warmth that had returned to Tony’s expression. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he removed Tony’s hands from him, standing back up. “It’s not good. And I know it’s not, but I’m at peace with that so you don’t have to worry about lying and saying it is. Just… Just as a warning, ok?”

“You’re constant warnings are making me more anxious about it, you know. You’re not helping your case.” Worry creased Tony’s brow, though it didn’t even remotely detract from that uncomfortable prettiness that Bruce had noticed from day one.

Not for the first time, Bruce wondered why on earth Tony was with  _ him _ , in whatever sense they were together. Gorgeous Tony with his too-quick mind and easy demeanor.

It didn’t make a lot of sense, just looking at them.

But, he supposed there was a lot more to that, and dwelling on the fact that Tony could definitely find someone better looking wasn’t going to get them anywhere, especially right now.

Steeling himself, Bruce pulled his shirt off and turned around so his back was to Tony.

He knew a lot of the scars were faded. And they all looked as old as they were, and had at least somewhat faded with time. Some of them have stretched as he grew up.

So while Bruce was very well aware that it wasn’t as bad as it used to be, he was less than surprised at the sharp hiss of breath from Tony. Even in the dim lamplight, it couldn’t be a nice sight.

“Do I want to know what happened? Actually, I  _ do _ want to know the names of the people who did this. They’re dead, right? Because I can definitely arrange to fix that if they’re not.”

Bruce huffed a laugh, recognizing the nervous babble before turning back to face Tony. Which at least hid the majority of the scarring. “This is kind of why I didn’t show you earlier. I feel like you would have been retroactively pissed off for ruining the mood by showing this off.”

There was clear hesitation in Tony’s eyes as he kneeled up, reaching out to brush along a burn scar on Bruce’s shoulder. “How old were you when you got these?”

It was a little hard to shrug while trying to stay as still as possible, but Bruce managed well enough. Being this much taller than Tony was odd, especially when remembering the scarring often made him feel unbearably small all over again. “It all blurred together, honestly. Nothing newer than ten years, I think.”

Well. He was pretty sure there were a few that were closer to eight years, but it was close enough that he was sure Tony would accept it even if he  _ did _ find out the truth.

He let Tony draw him closer, guiding him down until he was resting his head on Bruce’s shoulder. “Ok. So a long time ago, and you don’t really want to talk about the specifics. I can handle that.”

A wry smile touched Bruce’s lips as he cradled the back of Tony’s neck. He was grateful, really, that he hadn’t continued asking. That he hadn’t started touching them all, and seemed to just accept it as it was.

“I get why you were skittish of them, I guess. A little too close to home in a bad way and all that?”

Bruce hummed, scratching through the short hairs at the back of Tony’s neck. “Like I said. I’m a little more sensitive to family stress than a lot of people are. I probably should have told you before we left, but I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle it.”

“I’m pretty sure you just proved that you can handle anything, to be honest.” His fingers tightened around the bare skin of Bruce’s back as a shudder ran through him. “Ok. So I’m not dragging you back to New York unless it’s  _ especially _ dire. It’s decided. You’re staying here where people are nice and don’t remind you of whoever did this.”

It was so hard not to tut, tugging gently at Tony’s hair. “You literally just said that I can handle anything and you’re going to backtrack in the same sentence.”

“You can. That doesn’t mean I want you to.”

Bruce could feel a knot rising in his throat, and he decided to not push the point. It wasn’t like Tony was  _ actually _ planning on bringing Bruce to one of those things anyways. It had always just been idle complaining that he seemed to expect Bruce to turn down.

“You’re too sweet for your own good,” Bruce said instead. It was true, honestly. And it was better than trying to promise Tony that he would try to keep him from the worst of it as well, because they both knew there was only so much Bruce could do on that front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello (: Ok, so that was kind of heavy for me to write, and for some reason I struggled to get it as smooth as I wanted it, but I figured it would just be easiest to post it now anyways? Also, I'm changing my update schedule, so I'll be posting Mondays and Thursdays, which is kind of great. I've never actually managed to be this far ahead, so this is exciting to me ^^;;
> 
> As always, thanks so much to everyone for reading, leaving kudos, commenting, etc. You're my main motivation for writing


	11. Chapter 11

The next time a Stark Industries function came up, Tony almost made himself sick worrying over it. Whether it was because of  _ that _ particular get together or the disastrous meeting that Bruce had with his parents two months prior Bruce wasn’t sure, but he didn’t even hesitate for a moment to use Tony’s phone to tell Howard that he wouldn’t be attending.

While normally Bruce hated the idea of sounding even remotely like his father, he had no problem loosening his temper just enough to get his point across that no, Tony would not be driving to Manhattan over the weekend and no, he wasn’t putting Tony on the phone. That Tony was sick and he needed to rest.

“You know, you’re kind of intimidating when you want to be,” Tony commented as Bruce handed him the phone back so Bruce could try to get back to cooking them breakfast.

He pulled a face, nose wrinkling. He didn’t think he was, really. And he hadn’t necessarily done much that he would construe as  _ intimidating _ , but apparently it had been enough to get Howard Stark to hang up first. “Thanks, I think. I don’t know where you’re getting that impression from, but thanks.”

Tony scoffed, wrapping his arms around Bruce and letting him hold up most of his weight. “You told him ‘over my dead body’, honey. I don’t even know what he was asking you to do, but even I knew not to try and argue with you about it.”

Right. That. Not Bruce’s proudest moment, but it had gotten the job done, since like hell was he going to let Tony go play as Howard Stark’s showpiece. Tony had asked Bruce to bail him out, so that was exactly what he did. “You said you didn’t want to talk to him so I didn’t let him talk to you. Simple as that.”

He felt the smile that Tony hid against his neck, and didn’t stop himself from reaching back to card through his hair.

“You’re really too good to me, you know. I probably should have sucked it up and gone.”

Somehow, it didn’t surprise Bruce that he thought that. Tony had this habit of just pushing through things without much regard to himself. Through the cut on his hand, through almost no sleep… Through a ridiculous amount of external pressure.

“You deserve to stay home sometimes. You can take care of yourself first and Stark Industries second.”

Really though, Bruce didn’t have too much room to talk on the subject considering that he’d not so much as taken a sick day since middle school, no matter how awful he’d felt. But it was a lecture he’d heard from his therapist often enough that he could almost repeat it in his sleep at this point, in spite of the rapidly decreasing number of visits as of late.

Tony almost seemed to take it to heart for a moment, hands clenching in Bruce’s shirt before he let go and straightened himself up. “So long as it doesn’t become a habit, yeah. You’re probably right. Hopefully you didn’t get on his nerves too much though; that’s not really something I want to deal with next time I go back.”

All the sudden, Bruce remembered that he wasn’t the one who would have to deal with the consequences of ‘next time’. That was all on Tony, and he almost felt sick with the thought. If he made it worse, Bruce was going to have a hard time trying to forgive himself “Sorry… I got caught up in the moment.”

“That sounds like something you would say after you finished fucking me. “ Tony scoffed, fondly tugging at the collar Bruce’s shirt without seeming to want anything to come from it. Just some weird form of Tony’s physical affection.

It was nice, in an odd way. That didn’t stop Bruce from scoffing and nudging him away so that he could actually get some pancakes cooking.

* * *

“Your birthday’s coming up again soon.”

That… Wasn’t the kind of thing he expected to hear immediately upon coming home from class. He tugged off the scarf that had at least somewhat blocked out some of the early November chill, dropping his bag by the door. “I know that,” he said cautiously, unsure where this conversation was about to go.

In spite of the weather, Tony was working in the kitchen in little more than a threadbare shirt and shorts. And by the looks of it he was maybe attempting to bake again, because the lemon bars from last year had gone over  _ so _ well.

It could have been worse, Bruce supposed. But Tony had managed to underbake and burn the exact same batch, and that had been a little alarming. Not as alarming as the fact that Tony almost teared up immediately upon realizing that, but they’d managed to talk through it so he wasn’t too worried about that happening if  _ this  _ went wrong.

“How have I known you for three years without knowing what kind of cake you like? I mean, it’s kind of a travesty,” Tony said, gesturing vaguely around the room. “I’m probably going to end up ordering whatever it is you  _ do _ like best, but there’s like, a hundred different kinds and I can’t test them all here in the next two months.”

The entire scene felt odd. Tony looked painfully out of his element, and Bruce really wasn’t sure what to make of this. “Is this a stress-baking thing, or were you just bored?”

Tony shrugged, brushing what was probably cake mix off of his clothes before hauling himself up onto the counter, almost sending an empty mixing bowl to the floor in the process. “A little bit of both, probably. Mostly the latter. Also, you didn’t answer?”

Bruce was going to guess that Tony hadn’t left the apartment much in the last week. He recognized a little bit of the stir-craziness that tended to show through in random, messy projects and a lot more rambling than usual. “I don’t really have a favorite. It’s all good.”

“You’re ridiculously non-picky about everything,” Tony complained. “Like, you have no preferences about anything and it’s the weirdest thing sometimes.”

Bruce was pretty sure they’d had a similar conversation before regarding their sex life. “I didn’t grow up with a lot, so I don’t really have opinions on nicer things. They’ve been mostly out of reach, so it’s not something I spared a lot of time thinking about while growing up.”

That seemed to bring Tony pause, a considering look in his eyes. “So, what I’m hearing is that I should just spoil you to death until you’re used to having anything you want, and then figuring out what you like best.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.” Bruce’s nose wrinkled at the mere  _ thought _ of something like that. Hell, Tony had already taken a few opportunities to do that sort of thing, and all it had done was make Bruce vaguely uncomfortable until he could put it out of his mind. “How about we just keep doing things like we already are; where you don’t give me things constantly and save it for only special occasions.”

“Would buying plane tickets back home count as ‘special occasion’, or should I have waited on that until it was actually Christmas to do that?”

The casual mention brought him up short, hands pausing over the kitchen chairs he’d been slowly edging towards. “Please tell me you didn’t buy plane tickets without asking me first.”

“I didn’t buy plane tickets without asking you first,” Tony parroted back immediately. “Ok but if I did, does it help if I just got one for you and you’ll be leaving and coming home well within winter break bounds? Because the idea of you spending three birthdays  _ and _ three Christmases in a row by yourself is just depressing, and I have to at least make a passing effort to spend time with my family. Plus I didn’t want to intrude since I  _ didn’t  _ ask first.”

Bruce made himself take a slow breath, eyes closing so that he didn’t start freaking out. It wasn’t anger, at least. Some level of frustration, but he wasn’t pissed off. Or, that’s what he kept insisting to himself.

Though that would definitely explain why Tony was erratic today, if he’d bought something he didn’t think Bruce would be happy about. Or maybe that was just another symptom and not the underlying cause. “You’re not allowed to get me anything else for the holidays. At all. This is the only thing you can give me for Christmas, my birthday,  _ and _ New Years. Understand?”

“It’s a plane ticket, Brucie. It’s not like I gave you a small fortune and my first-born.”

It was hard not to pull a face at that. Only a plane ticket. Right. While it didn’t cost nearly as much as what Tony had cumulatively gotten last year, it still felt like far too much. It was  _ entirely _ too much, and while there was no way that Bruce could really accept it… 

He remembered the hassle of dealing with plane tickets when he’d first come to Massachusetts, and he was pretty sure there was no way that Tony was going to be able to get a refund for them.

“Are you mad about it?” Tony asked eventually, clearly trying not to fidget. It took some pretty obvious effort for Tony to stay perfectly still where he was, as if he was waiting for some kind of repercussion.

And that really hurt to think about, actually. That Tony might be afraid of Bruce’s temper, as little as he’s seen of it. Or he was afraid of people being angry at him in general, and Bruce was pretty sure he knew exactly who to blame if it was  _ that _ .

“I’m not mad,” Bruce answered softly, gaze dropping to the table. “I appreciate it, but I would rather you’d asked me first. It’s too much; I can’t even start to thank you for it.”

“It’s not like I got it for you so you’d thank me. I mean, if you want to suck me off or something to show your appreciation I’m definitely on board with that, but that’s not why I did it.”

Well there was that, even if it felt very sugar daddy-ish. The thought wasn’t unsettling enough to make him immediately dismiss Tony’s suggestion.

* * *

Tony had insisted on driving Bruce to the airport. He’d also insisted on kissing him goodbye in a way that was almost heartbreakingly gentle and felt entirely too much like an apology.

The longer this went on, the harder it was for Bruce to convince himself that what they were doing was anything  _ but  _ a relationship. The problem was, he’d avoided that talk for this long, and asking it now almost felt too late.

It wasn’t something he really let himself think about until his aunt Susan asked about their living arrangements. Jen side-eyed him the entire time Bruce was fumbling through the explanation that Tony was used to not having his own room, what with years of being in boarding schools before he even got to college.

He also got the ‘it’s all right if you’re not straight’ speech from his aunt, which was a little mortifying to hear while they were preparing dinner, but there it was.

While Tony had arranged the tickets for him to stay a little over two weeks, it was maybe only five days into his trip that he woke up to a call from Tony asking if he could rearrange that and have Bruce come home sooner. As soon as possible, actually.

Normally Bruce would be put off by the change, but there was something unbearably soft in Tony’s voice that had him agreeing in a heartbeat. That made him not so much as question  _ why _ Tony wanted him to come home sooner.

He heard the news report saying that Howard and Maria Stark passed away almost the moment he went to tell his aunt that he was leaving the next day. Bruce almost felt sick, knowing that Tony was probably all by himself, and he  _ shouldn’t _ be all by himself, not now. Not after that, but there wasn’t even anything he could  _ do _ about it.

He didn’t ask Tony to pick him up from the airport. Belatedly he had realized that he wasn’t sure if Tony was even back yet, considering he was the one who had to handle the burial and the like.

Almost desperately, he wished that the return flight had put him in New York along with him, but he hadn’t wanted to call Tony and ask for any kind of favors.

It took four days after Bruce’s arrival for Tony to come home.

Bruce startled a little when he heard the door opening, considering it was late enough that he was trying to sleep. Tony hadn’t told him when or how he was getting home, and Bruce hadn’t wanted to bombard him with questions on top of everything else he was dealing with, so he’d made himself be patient.

He was quick to get out of bed, flipping on the bedroom light so he could at least somewhat see Tony from across the apartment. And it was so hard not to tear up just looking at him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Tony said hoarsely, closing and locking the door behind him. His shoulders were slumped and even without seeing his face clearly, Bruce was pretty damn certain that he looked utterly exhausted.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Bruce returned, crossing the space to wrap Tony up in his arms, ignoring the chill that radiated off his coat. Odd considering that he’d probably come straight in from his car. “Are you ok?”

There was a definitively wet hitch to his breath as his hands clutched almost desperately in the back of Bruce’s shirt. “Yeah, babe. I’m ok.”

It was one of the most blatant lies that he’d ever heard in his life. Tony was almost trembling, face tucked into Bruce’s shoulder as he held on for dear life, and there was no way in hell that he was anything close to all right.

But Bruce wasn’t about to try and make him admit that. Not right now. “All right…” He kissed Tony’s temple before squeezing him tightly. “Let’s get you to bed, ok? You’re probably tired after driving back.”

Tony nodded stiffly, letting Bruce tow him back towards their room and leaving his bag by the door. Bruce would handle it later. It wasn’t important right now.

He was gentle, guiding Tony to sit on the edge of the bed and switching the lamp on, wanting things to look and feel as soft as possible.

In all honesty, Bruce remembered very little of the aftermath of losing his own mother. He remembered missing her, and he couldn’t forget her actual death no matter how hard he tried but…

He didn’t remember how he’d grieved her. He had no idea what to do for Tony right now, especially when he’d just lost  _ both _ of his parents in one fell swoop.

He did what he could, slowly pulling Tony’s clothes off and helping him put on a pair of soft pajama pants, and Bruce pulled one of his own sweatshirts over Tony’s head as well even though he doubted he would wear it the entire night. It just seemed wrong to leave that much skin bared when he already seemed so vulnerable.

“I can get myself dressed, you know,” Tony said quietly as Bruce readjusted the sleeves.

It almost felt like an echo of an argument they’d had shortly after moving in together. “I know you can. Let me fret over you anyways, for my own peace of mind.”

Maybe it was because it was late, nearly midnight. Maybe it was because they weren’t fighting. But Tony didn’t even put up a token retort and simply let Bruce fuss over him, going as far as to tuck him into bed before climbing in as well and curling up around the other.

“Try and get some sleep, all right?” Bruce asked, palm resting over Tony’s heart. Just so he had the reassurance of it beating steadily, of him breathing slowly.

Regardless of the silence that fell over them and how tired he seemed, it took a long time before Tony fell asleep. Bruce was just grateful that he slept at all

* * *

It almost felt like Tony was a ghost. Now that he knew, Bruce could see clear similarities to how he was acting now to how he had when his butler passed.

He didn’t talk much. He ate less, in spite of Bruce’s attempts to make sure that there were always some kind of snack out. When he  _ did _ talk, Tony got snappish and short tempered over the smallest things, and Bruce had to remind himself that he couldn’t argue back. Not now, not so soon after he’d lost so much.

That didn’t mean that his temper didn’t try to flare up, and that he didn’t pass up any opportunity he had to let it loose where it wouldn’t effect Tony.

It was almost a week later that Bruce woke up to someone started banging on their door at god-knew what time in the morning, and he really wasn’t in the mood for it. He’d been up most of the night trying to get Tony to sleep, and while he recognized that once he was down nothing would disturb him…

He tried to be quiet getting out of bed, doing his best not to jostle Tony on his way out and aimed a glare at the man who was knocking the second the door was open. “Can I help you?” he asked, more than a little icily.

Really, were the circumstances any different he would be absolutely appalled with himself. And probably later in the day, he  _ would be  _ appalled with himself, but right now when he was trying so hard to not lash back at Tony, and when he was struggling so much...

The man--realistically he couldn’t be too many years older than Bruce was--looked wholly unimpressed, arms crossed over his chest in a way that really just put him on edge. But there was something passingly familiar about him that he couldn’t quite place. “I’m here to see Tones?”

The pieces clicked into place, and Bruce automatically felt awful for snapping. “You must be Rhodey,” he stated, still clutching at the door. “He’s asleep right now, and I’d really rather he stay that way for a bit longer.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hasn’t settled down any, huh? Mind if I stick around until he  _ does _ wake up?”

Bruce bit down on the inside of his cheek. It would be rude no matter what he did, because he wasn’t entirely sure if Tony would  _ want _ to see Rhodey right now. Half the time, he didn’t want to so much as leave their bed. But on the other hand, odds were Rhodey knew what had happened, so it would also be rude to send him away. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I can have him call--”

“Rhodey?”

Bruce stilled for a moment before stepping aside with his head bowed. There was no point in it if Tony was already awake in spite of the fact that he had been up until three in the morning. He wasn’t about to try and tell Tony that he  _ shouldn’t _ see his friend in lieu of getting some rest.

He almost missed the way that Rhodey’s face softened as he stepped inside their apartment. “Sorry I couldn’t be here sooner, man. I was halfway through getting my ticket to New York before someone told me that you were still living out here.” Rhodey glanced over to Bruce, gaze sweeping up and down him, and he almost wished he was more presentable. “So you’re his new--”

“Roommate,” Tony finished, a bit too loudly. “Yeah, he kind of took over your mothering duties, since you so cruelly abandoned me.”

Bruce shot him a weird look, pausing when he realized that Tony was no more dressed out here than he had been in bed. And while the blanket over his shoulders hid a lot away… “Did you seriously not even get dressed before coming out here?” he asked before he could think about it. Belatedly, he realized how wrong that sounded. As if Tony was completely naked underneath that blanket, when he’d still been in a pair of Bruce’s sweatpants when he left the room.

Tony shrugged dismissively, clutching it a little tighter around him. “Rhodey’s already seen me in all my naked glory. I’m practically decent.”

“Glory isn’t the word I’d use, but sure,” Rhodey quipped, toeing off his shoes. “Seriously, though. You doing ok? I heard the funeral was--”

“It’s over,” Tony interrupted. There was a pallor to his face that instantly made Bruce worry more, enough to where he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to touch his hand where it was wrapped around their blanket. “It’s fine, Brucie,” Tony continued, shrugging one shoulder and stepping back so he was out of Bruce’s range. “Go back to bed, all right? You didn’t sleep at all; I can tell. I’ll be ok.”

Part of him wanted to stick around. Just in case, but at the same time… Tony said to go. And it was  _ Rhodey _ , who meant a lot to Tony, so Bruce was going to have to trust him on that.

So he offered another terse smile to Rhodey, murmured some vague apology before heading back to his and Tony’s room, making sure to pause long enough to clasp his shoulder as he passed. Granted, even through the closed door he could hear  _ some _ snippets of what was going on.

“Finally picked a good one, huh?” he heard Rhodey say.

“It’s  _ complicated _ ,” Tony shot back, almost defensively. “He’s different, ok? Get off my case.”

“Uh-huh. Tell me, how’s that list filling out?”

Bruce made himself take a slow breath before dragging Tony’s pillow over his head and curling under the sheet Tony had left. He didn’t want to hear this, not really. Not right now.

* * *

Bruce dropped a few of his classes and switched one to an online section, not wanting to be far away from Tony so soon after his loss. Not everything, of course, and he actually kept his advisor in the loop as to the vague details about what was going on. She reassured him that he was still about a semester ahead of schedule for getting his degree, and that it wouldn’t cause any issues.

At the very least, Tony seemed to let Bruce put his temper to good use regarding the influx of company-related phone calls, and he was nice enough not to mention that he’d been less than kind to Rhodey on their first official meeting.

Apparently everyone had decided two weeks was enough time to let Tony mourn before they started bombarding him all at once. Halfway through the third week of it, Bruce was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to keep up even cursory pleasantries for much longer.

“Mr. Stark isn’t available right now,” Bruce repeated with paper-thin patience, combing his fingers through Tony’s hair. “No, I will not take a message.”

He glanced down in time to see the slightest upturn of Tony’s lips, and that really just made all of this worthwhile. If he wasn’t on the phone with one of Stark Industries’ backers, he probably would have leaned down to kiss his cheek. It had been too long since he’d even seen that much of a smile on his face.

As it was, he steeled his voice and repeated that no, Bruce was  _ not _ about to try and get ‘Mr. Stark’ on the line before ultimately hanging up when he clearly wasn’t taking a hint.

“Thanks for handling them,” Tony said for maybe the fifth time since they had started calling incessantly.

Really, when it seemed to settle Tony’s nerves this much, Bruce thought that he would do it in a heartbeat for him. “It’s not a problem, Tones,” he insisted softly, drawing his thumb down the ridge of Tony’s nose.

Tony’s eyes crinkled at the edges, as he took his phone back. “I mean, it is a problem, but you’re too nice to complain about it to my face. And I appreciate that.”

Bruce clicked his tongue, pausing when he realized how much it sounded like Tony.

Apparently he had the same thought because his eyes brightened before turning to hide his face in Bruce’s hip. “That’s cute, honey. You’ve been around me too much.”

And honestly, Bruce couldn’t say he minded it so much. Of all of Tony’s mannerisms he could have picked up, that was definitely one of the more innocuous ones. “I think you like it, though.”

There was a softness to Tony’s expression when he looked back up at Bruce, and it almost scared him a little bit. “I like you, at least. You know, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

It was really hard not to lean down and kiss Tony’s forehead. He wanted to, and he was pretty sure Tony would be pleased, but he couldn’t help but feel like it would be one step too far. Like it would be another nail in whatever coffin they had been building together since day one, and Bruce wasn’t sure what would happen when it was finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello (: I'm just going to say, this frequent updating thing is kind of a trip for me. Mostly because now I spend most of my days editing, and I don't think I've done very much writing all week.
> 
> As always, thank you so much to everyone for reading, leaving kudos, commenting, etc.. We're actually in the home stretch, now. I'll put up the final chapter count once I finish splitting everything up


	12. Chapter 12

The first time Tony actually went back to New York it was almost mid-April, and by that point Bruce was spending a lot less of his time fielding Tony’s calls. Now, he kept an eye on him while Tony answered them himself.

Bruce would admit that it slowly progressed to where he understood less and less about what was going on during said calls as they shifted away from constant condolences and more towards business.

It was markedly harder to forget now that  _ his  _ Tony was Tony Stark. Bruce wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that, but it wasn’t like he could change it or anything. And he didn’t hate the idea of it enough to mention it, so he tended to just let it be.

“Think you’ll stay here for your Masters?” Tony asked almost immediately after returning home, before he even relocked the door.

Bruce barely looked over from the boiling water he had on the stove, not sure where this conversation was going to go but almost positive that he wasn’t going to like it.

While he remembered Tony insisting he was in no rush to leave… things were different now. He was pretty sure Tony owned the company and he was probably needed  _ there _ . It would be selfish to try and keep him here, but it wasn’t like he had been looking at any schools in New York, much.

The thought that their time living together might be close to an end was a little terrifying, if he had to be honest. But it wasn’t like he could ask Tony to uproot his life for him.

“I was maybe thinking about Caltech, and possibly applying for their PhD program instead,” he admitted. “I have a while before I need to decide, but I was either going to stay in the area or maybe go out there instead.”

His answer was met with silence, and vaguely Bruce hoped that he was just distracted with taking off the formalwear that he always wore to Stark Industries things. “I just need to figure out if I need to keep making excuses for why I’m not moving back to Manhattan. I think that we have a lower-level office out in Malibu I can operate from if you want to go there.”

Bruce swallowed thickly, feeling guilty for reasons he didn’t want to articulate, even to himself. Probably related to him possibly making Tony’s life harder again. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to follow me when you have something here.”

With a soft hum, Tony hauled himself on the counter next to him with the first two buttons on his shirt opened, and--

Was that lipstick on the collar?

Bruce paused, examining the dark pink smudge against the white fabric, and tried to swallow down the mixture of hurt and betrayal that threatened to knot up his throat. While he was aware that they technically weren’t together or anything… Bruce had sort of expected that Tony had long since stopped hooking up with other people. “Did you have fun while you were gone?” he asked casually, forcing his gaze away so he could focus on the pasta that he was cooking.

From the corner of his eye, Bruce still caught the grimace and his hands clenching around the ledge of the counter. “You know, I kind of expected that whenever I was  _ actually _ close to heading the company, a bunch of people were going to try and hook up with me for the prestige. I can’t say I expected the board members to send their kids and grandkids out to try and seduce me, though.”

Almost instantly, Bruce felt a little sick at the matter of fact way Tony relayed that. As if it was inevitable as the sun rising. The fact that he’d  _ expected _ as much...

It made him wonder if it had always been like that with him. If people tended to gravitate towards him solely for the prestige of it.

He  _ also _ wondered what it said about Tony, that he tended to let people use him like that even knowing full well that’s what they were doing.

Bruce reached up, cradling the back of Tony’s neck and guiding him down to press their foreheads together, earlier pang of jealousy nearly forgotten. “I’ll see who I get acceptances from. We’ll figure out where to go from there, all right?”

Tony was quick to duck further down, brushing his lips against Bruce’s as if that was some sort of answer.

* * *

As soon as Tony started going back to SI, he seemed to return almost once a month to handle a little bit of everything. Mostly it seemed like company functions, but every now and again he left for a board meeting. A lot of his time on the computer seemed to have shifted from personal projects to looking over things from Stark Industries as well.

Bruce took it as a sign that it would be all right if he took a full course load over the summer, and started considering turning in new applications for Harvard, Caltech and Columbia, though he couldn’t say he was keen on the last one. While he would rather just stay here… Maybe it would be better for them to move, if Tony was dead set on following him  _ and _ continuing with the company.

It seemed that Tony didn’t like being there much. Or at all. Every time he came home, Tony looked frustrated, exhausted, and Bruce wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to do this or if he thought that he  _ had  _ to.

The more Tony left, though, the harder he pushed to try and get Bruce to come with him.

“You wouldn’t even have to be in the same room as them,” Tony insisted, sprawled face-down on the mattress as Bruce slid his fingers deep inside his entrance.

Bruce sighed, deliberately pressing down hard against Tony’s prostate and listening to him nearly whimper from it. “Can we not talk about this while I’m thinking about maybe fucking you?”

Tony shuddered, legs spreading wider even as he got his knees under him. “Just saying, sweetheart. Something to think about when you’re  _ not _ considering actually doing the deed with me after all this time.”

“What, this doesn’t count?” Bruce asked, edging a third finger a little sooner than he normally would just to drive the point home. And if he got to feel the fluttering of Tony’s hole around him, well… That was a nice bonus.

It seemed to work, since Tony trembled sharply, hands clenching down in the blankets. “You’re not playing fair,” he accused in spite of the raspiness of his voice.

It was hard not to smile because, really, Tony was going to claim unfair? “You’re the one who brought it up, dear… I’m playing as cleanly as you are.”

Tony grumbled unintelligibly, though he made a point to fuck himself back on Bruce’s fingers regardless.

“Poor Tones,” he sighed, draping himself across Tony’s back so he could kiss the curve of his shoulder. Letting Tony feel the weight of his cock sliding across his spine. “You should work on your bribery skills if you want to get something out of me.”

Judging by the stifled groan, Bruce wasn’t the only one who liked a talkative partner, and that was  _ definitely _ filed away for later. Even if he doubted he’d ever be as chatty as Tony could be, and he certainly wasn’t a screamer either.

He’d figure it out. If Tony liked it, Bruce could figure out how to do it.

“You either need to never talk like that again, or do it constantly,” Tony breathed, even as his back arched and he tucked his head to give Bruce access to the back of his neck. “Seriously though, it’s just something to think about. Keep me company so I’m not stir crazy by the time I come home to you.”

“Tones, later.” Bruce took what was offered, sinking his teeth into the nape of Tony’s neck to distract him, and judging by the way that Tony practically buckled beneath him… He was going to count it as a success.

Tony exhaled a curse, hands clenching in the sheets when Bruce dragged his free hand down the length of his cock.

God, the amount of precum… Tony was practically  _ dripping _ , hard enough that it probably hurt at this point and all Bruce wanted to do was make him continue to take it. To not give him his release and see how long it took before he broke down.

Except that kind of seemed like the kind of thing he should ask about first, and a big part of Bruce didn’t want to--just in case Tony wanted to know why.

And then they would probably have to talk about the less than conventional things that Bruce sometimes wanted out of Tony, and he was damn sure neither one of them wanted to have that conversation while Bruce had his fingers up Tony’s ass.

“Want me to get you off just like this?” he asked when it became clear that Tony wasn’t going to push the issue anymore. “Feels like you’re about ready for it.”

Tony groaned softly, trying to push his hips down against Bruce’s palm. “Not going to fuck me properly?” he asked, and there was something almost disappointed in Tony’s voice.

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent that this isn’t ‘properly’ when it gets the job done just fine.”

Well. He did. And he was intentionally playing dumb, and he was sure Tony knew that as well as he did. But he sort of wanted to hear Tony try to articulate it.

Maybe he’d chalk that up to another weird ‘thing’ of his that would eventually have to be addressed. Just not right now.

* * *

Bruce wasn’t sure if it was his newfound comfort in what they were doing, or if it was because he was just generally used to Tony and his odd hours by now, but he barely even startled anymore when he came home in the middle of the night. Even if it did jolt him out of whatever state of near-sleep he was in.

“Obie was a mistake,” Tony grumbled, not even pausing long enough to turn their bedroom light on.

All right, so apparently Bruce was going to just be up for a while longer. That was fine. “What did he do this time?” Bruce asked, voice still raspy from the sleep he’d been so close too. But he was happy enough to have him home that he couldn’t even be properly frustrated about having it snatched away from him.

He could vaguely hear Tony moving around the room before he crawled up on the bed to lay on top of him.

“Are you not even going to take that off?” he asked, incredulous as he felt the stiff fabric against his skin. Unbuttoned shirts, fine, he was used to that. But Bruce was pretty certain he was still wearing his jacket right now.

Tony grumbled, nuzzling against Bruce’s arm. “It’s slowly strangling me but I don’t want to move to take it off.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, managing to sit up enough to flip on one of the lamps before sliding back underneath Tony, who seemed undisturbed much by Bruce moving.

“Obie’s trying to discredit me,” Tony mumbled, still face-down on top of Bruce though he was slowly edging to lay more on his chest. “I mean, he claims the leak came from someone else, but he’s the only one other than Jarvis that knew about that party, and Jarvis isn’t telling anyone anything.”

Bruce sighed, carding his hands through Tony’s hair. While he  _ seemed _ calm, he was pretty sure it would just be safer to start placating now, lest he end up awake all night listening to Tony go on a tirade. And he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know about whatever party Obie was using to throw Tony under the bus. “What are you going to do about him?”

Tony made a frustrated sound, but just buried himself deeper into Bruce’s shirt. “I can’t do anything. That’s the problem--the shareholders love and trust him, so I can’t move to oust him. I just have to keep playing his game and prove that I deserve to be there too.”

Whatever answer Bruce had been expecting, that wasn’t even close to it. Tony was notoriously brash and more than a little impulsive; Bruce never expected Tony to play office politics. He didn’t really think that Tony would have the patience for it.

But then, he realized he didn’t really have any idea what it was that Tony  _ did  _ when he was back in New York. He had no idea what he even was doing in Stark Industries.

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Well, if there’s something I can do to help, let me know. Even if you just need to complain about it, since you’re playing nice with the suits and probably can’t complain about them there.”

“It’s like being in a room full of Justin Hammers and I’m not even allowed to call them assholes,” Tony bemoaned, shuffling until he had a thigh comfortably slotted between Bruce’s.

He couldn’t help but scoff, resuming to play with his hair since it had at least kept Tony complacent and not moving. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Tony hummed contentedly, making a point to nuzzle just under Bruce’s jaw. “I just hate how he looks at me, you know? Like I’m some kind of toy he can control.”

It was hard not to wrinkle his nose, though he doubted the effort was actually worth it.

Why did it seem like so many people thought that they could use Tony without him noticing? Did they not think that his entire life had been like that, and that he would recognize it from miles away by now?

Though, that said it never seemed like Tony did much to stop them… Maybe they thought he  _ was _ that naive.

He leaned down, kissing the top of Tony’s head. “Go change and come back to bed, all right? You don’t have to see them again for a while.”

“I go back in two weeks,” he corrected, even though he hauled himself upright to start stripping. It said something to how annoyed Tony was that he didn’t even make a passing effort at making a show of it.

That was soon. Weirdly soon, actually; even with how often he’d been going for the last five months, Tony normally only went back every three weeks or so. “Is everything all right?”

“I’m playing nice,” Tony said, crawling into bed in nothing but his underwear. “Which means I have to actually  _ be _ there, which just sucks but what else can you do, right?”

Bruce tutted, but couldn’t really offer a better alternative. That was Tony’s world. He had no idea what to do when it came down to businesses. “I’ll come with you if you want me to. Next time, I mean. No promises I’ll be useful or anything, but I can be there with you if you think that will make it easier for you.”

The smile Tony offered him looked tired. Tired, worn thin, and older than it should be.

Then again, Bruce was uncomfortably aware that there was more pressure on Tony than should be on any twenty year old.

“You would hate every second of it, Brucie. And we both know that for a fact.”

“But I’m not doing it for me. I want to do it for  _ you _ , because I care about you and I want to make sure you’re all right,” Bruce returned, grasping at Tony’s hands under the covers. There was something honestly somber in Tony’s gaze, and Bruce couldn’t help but sigh. “You give too much, sometimes. Especially in proportion to how much you ask for.”

Tony scoffed, twining their fingers together. “If anyone else heard you say that, they would laugh at you.”

“They don’t know you like I do.” Bruce bit down on the inside of his lip. It didn’t seem like Tony would ask for Bruce to follow him this time, but he felt like he had to offer him  _ something _ . “I’m tough enough to handle them if I have to, you know. And I know you are too, but sometimes it’s easier if you’re not all by yourself.”

“It’s different in person, though. I know you can handle them from a distance; you’re kind of terrifying when you talk to them on the phone, but… You almost wilted just around my  _ mom _ , Bruce. And she’s probably the gentlest person--” Tony stopped, paling a bit as his hold tightened.

“I’ve survived worse than your parents, you know,” Bruce chided, hoping to distract him from what had unnerved Tony so suddenly.

“Yeah, I know. That doesn’t mean I want to throw you into a shark tank full of people just like them.”

Bruce sighed, pushing against Tony’s shoulder as if it was a reprimand. “You’ve seen physical proof that I can handle whatever you need me to, Tony. Don’t try and take it all on yourself just because you think you have to, or because you think I can’t take it.”

He caught Tony’s grimace before he flipped the light off. “I know you can. That doesn’t mean I want you to.”

That seemed to be as close to an ‘end of discussion’ as Tony could have made without using those words themselves. It took more than a little effort not to turn the lights back on and continue to refute that he  _ wanted _ to go.

It was late. Tony was irritated as is, and Bruce wouldn’t make any headway if Tony had already decided to be stubborn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies (: So I worked it out, and there's now a final chapter count. Which means that you should be getting the last post just before Christmas. As always, thank you to everyone who read, left kudos, comments, etc. I hope you all have happy and safe holidays <3
> 
> Also in other news, I'm going back to college next month, so any writing I do will probably slow down a bit, providing it all works out. I'm kind of notoriously bad at school ^^;


	13. Chapter 13

The topic didn’t come up again for a long while. And maybe it was better that way, considering how much seemed to happen all at once shortly afterwards.

He graduated after summer semester with a pair of Bachelors in Biochem and Nuclear Physics, and he had to admit that it was a lot less stressful than Bruce had been imagining. He never  _ actually _ went back to Ohio to walk in his high school graduation, and he’d missed Tony’s so he didn’t have a frame of reference as to what he should be expecting.

His aunt and cousin had flown out, and Tony had made sure to be there because he was ‘under no circumstances missing this and fuck the company if they tried to get in the way’.

Introducing the two groups had been a minor nightmare, considering that Bruce had neglected to mention that Tony--the long time roommate that his family thought he was dating--was actually Tony Stark. Aunt Susan was polite enough to not make a big deal over it in front of Tony, but the pointed look she had aimed at Bruce was a pretty clear indicator that he was going to have to do a lot of explaining later.

Jen had looked suitably betrayed, and that had almost made the awkwardness worth it. As much as he loved her, there was definitely an underlying smugness that he felt at her shock.

“You really should put in your applications for the spring semester instead of trying to go this fall,” Tony had insisted, his ankle locked around Bruce’s in a way that probably wasn’t comfortable for either of them but Bruce wasn’t about to try and move him. “By now, after early admissions and the people who applied in the spring, it’ll be easier to get in somewhere next year. Or, you know, you could take an  _ actual _ break and wait until fall like a sensible person.”

And of course, that had to be followed with, “Just sit around and be a kept man for a while,” because god forbid Tony use his verbal filter around Bruce’s family.

Jen had practically choked on her own tongue at that, and Bruce was pretty sure he went bright red with mortification. Needless to say, he didn’t even try to defend that they weren’t together to his family after that. It seemed like it would be a waste of time.

Considering that Bruce had  _ actually  _ listened to Tony to an extent, he found himself with absolutely nothing to really do for an entire semester. While he insisted that Bruce should focus on his applications for spring and actually relaxing, he ended up at a couple different interviews for part time work so he didn’t feel so useless.

He ended up in the hell of seasonal retail, and every time he came home to Tony just lounging around or doing something on his computer, he got the suspicion that maybe he should have just followed Tony’s advice in regard to being ‘a kept man’ as well as postponing his schooling for a few months.

By now, he had two acceptance letters for spring, though. He was still waiting to hear back from Caltech, but Tony assured him that it shouldn’t be a problem, with the ridiculously glowing recommendations he had gotten from his professors.

“So. Please tell me that you have Christmas weekend off, or you can  _ get _ Christmas weekend off,” Tony said the second he walked in the door after his shift.

Closing was awful, he had decided. Bruce was pretty sure he’d never hated people so much as he had when he had to help face the entire store, and he was  _ absolutely  _ sure he was a changed man because of it.

“I’m pretty sure that schedule isn’t out yet, but I’ll see what I can do,” Bruce said dubiously, hanging up his coat and toeing his shoes off. “Is everything all right?”

Tony took a slow breath, clearly trying to stop himself from fidgeting. “So, you know how I said I’d ask you to come to New York with me if it got dire?”

Really, it was a shitty way to start the conversation in combination with a shitty shift, and Bruce couldn’t help but sigh. “How bad should I be prepared for?”

“I might have told them we’re engaged and they’re demanding to meet you, so I’m going to say ‘extremely bad’.”

Everything seemed to stop in that moment. Bruce couldn’t help but be overly aware of how nothing broke the silence of their apartment except the hum of the heater and their too-quiet breathing, though Bruce half-suspected that Tony could hear his pulse thudding too loudly in his chest.

“Is there a reason you told them that, or did it just seem like a thing you should say?” Bruce asked eventually, once he was sure that he’d  _ actually _ heard that right. Sure, the subject had been casually broached a few times, but always in the context of a joke. Never anything he thought Tony would actually say to anyone else. They weren’t even  _ dating _ for fuck’s sake.

“I needed to give them an excuse for why I hadn’t moved back to New York. I panicked; sue me.” There was a sullen twist to his mouth as Tony crossed his arms over his chest.

And really, of course that was what it was. Which meant that Bruce couldn’t exactly be mad at him for it, since it was partially his fault Tony was still down here to begin with. He forced himself to take a slow breath, re-centering himself before he spoke. “How long have they thought we were engaged?”

“About ten months, give or take.”

All right,  _ that _ Bruce was pretty sure he was allowed to be mad about. Tony had been saying that for almost a full year now, and he hadn’t thought to tell Bruce about it until a scant handful of weeks before he wanted Bruce to go play fiancé with him in front of his business partners?

“When were you going to tell me about this? You  _ do _ realize we’re going to have to get rings or something if we want to sell this.”

Tony looked at him petulantly, dropping his arms. “Technically only  _ you _ need to wear a ring--I already took care of that, by the way--and I was going to tell you when you needed to know. Which, in this case, is right now. I’ll handle everything else; I just need you to be there with me.”

“You already--”

“Will you help me out or not?” Tony cut him off. Tension was clear in the line between his brows and the set of his shoulders.

Bruce swallowed back his frustration, reminding himself that Tony very seldom asked him for anything in spite of all he gave. That he owed Tony this much, and a hell of a lot more. And, more the point, Bruce had insisted that he should actually go with Tony to one of these things the last time the subject had been broached.

That didn’t mean he wanted it to be under these particular circumstances. “I’ll do what I can to get it off. But maybe give me more warning next time.”

The palpable relief on Tony’s face objectively made it worthwhile, but that really did nothing to tamp down his nerves.

* * *

The rest of November and early December comprised of Tony giving Bruce a crash course as to who was who, what they did, and what  _ he _ did. It was a lot, honestly, and Bruce couldn’t help but wonder how necessary a lot of the board members were.

His job refused to accept a time off request for that weekend, which Bruce had expected and really only prompted him to turn in his two weeks notice instead. As much as he hated to do so because while he didn’t necessarily like the work, he liked getting paid on a regular basis. It had never been much, but it was his.

Though, it was maybe for the best since he and Tony were now slated to move to California just after the new year anyways, considering Caltech had accepted him into their graduate program. If not then, he would have had to leave the job only a week later.

The drive into Manhattan seemed more tense than last time, with Tony’s grip almost too tight on the wheel the second they were on the island.

“We’re going to be ok,” Bruce insisted for the umpteenth time, even as he was fiddling almost anxiously with the plain gold band on his ring finger.

‘To get him used to the feeling’, Tony had insisted about a week before they even left. Even now, he couldn’t help but admit that the miniscule weight was foreign and a little uncomfortable still.

He didn’t ask where it came from, or why it was a near-perfect fit in spite of the fact that Tony had apparently bought it for him before even mentioning the fake engagement to Bruce. It was a question he didn’t really want to know the answer to, in spite of what his curiosity insisted.

“You’re going to hate it and this is a shitty thing to do to you so soon after your birthday. And Obie’s officially confirmed he’s going to be here, and if he recognizes your voice, you’re going to have an even harder time than you were already going to. This was a  _ terrible _ idea.”

Well, it was a shorter rant than he expected, at least. “Did you have a better one?” Bruce asked, reaching over to grasp Tony’s thigh. “We’re fine, Tones. It’s just one night and then you can decompress again until next year.”

“That would sound so much better if ‘next year’ was more than two weeks away,” Tony complained.

And well, that was true enough. Bruce didn’t try to promise anything more for the rest of the drive. He’d save the soothing for when they were at the Stark mansion and he could at least try and offer more physical comfort without worrying about distracting him from the road.

While the building looked the same, it felt significantly colder than the last time Bruce had been there. Maybe it was the simple knowledge that the only two people in the expansive place were himself and Tony, but he wasn’t about to comment on it. Not when Tony was anxious enough as it was.

Bruce made a point to take his hand, not letting go as he was led to a different room than they stayed in last time. Probably what used to be his parent’s room, and that was a depressing thought. It was certainly big enough to be the master bedroom, but then again he’d had a similar thought upon seeing Tony’s old bedroom here as well.

There was almost a bit of surprise that the place didn’t smell or look dusty or abandoned, but Bruce belatedly realized that Tony spent at least a few days here every month. More than likely whatever cleaning staff the Starks had previously were still employed here, which explained why everything still looked fairly pristine.

“I think you’re freaking out over this more than I am,” Bruce commented, watching Tony almost compulsively straighten the clothes he’d hung up immediately upon arriving. “I’m pretty sure that there’s nothing more we can do to prepare for it at this point. You’re going to be just fine, and the more nervous you are, the more nervous I’ll be. And I feel like that’s the opposite of what we want.”

Tony blinked, wide eyed and anxious-looking, but he didn’t stop Bruce from gently towing him to bed before he could protest.

Not for the first time, Bruce wondered why he did this when it seemed to do nothing but stress him out, or make him angry. “Do you actually want this?” he asked hesitantly, watching Tony burrow under the covers before disrobing, throwing his clothes carelessly over the edge of the bed. “I mean, not just this part, but… Do you actually  _ want  _ to run Stark Industries?”

“It’s mine to run,” Tony said, and he couldn’t help but notice how that wasn’t even remotely an answer to what Bruce had asked.

He was careful to keep his voice gentle, unassuming. Just in case it was taken as an insult, because that wasn’t how Bruce meant it. “That doesn’t mean you have to run it. You could do anything else that you wanted to; it doesn’t have to be this.”

That statement was met with a defiant look as Tony sat up, letting the covers slide down to his hips. There was no anger, Bruce noted with relief. But there was something…

“Look. I know we’re probably coming at this from different angles because we  _ always _ come at things from different angles, but this company is  _ mine _ . And I’m not letting anyone take it away from me.”

As much as Bruce wanted to insist that it was probably a little ridiculous to hold on to something he didn’t necessarily like… There was conviction in Tony’s eyes, and he wasn’t about to try and say that Tony was wrong to do this.

Which meant the only thing Bruce could really do was hold onto him and hope that it was the right choice. And hope that tomorrow night wouldn’t be as awful as they both thought it was going to be.

* * *

There was actual dread tightening a knot in Bruce’s stomach as Tony helped him into his clothes. And the fact that everything almost fit perfectly did very little to assuage it, and caused Bruce to wonder if they were actually the same size, or if Tony had ordered them for him without Bruce’s knowledge. Kind of like the ring.

Seeing Tony in front of him, posture straight as he smoothed out Bruce’s tie, he couldn’t help but notice just how different he was from when they first met. Tony was  _ taller _ than him now, and Bruce wasn’t entirely sure when that happened. It couldn’t have been more than an inch, but it still served to unnerve him. They weren’t kids at MIT anymore. At some point they had both grown up, and Bruce couldn’t help but wonder how he missed it.

Once they were actually there, arriving late enough that the opulent space was already teeming with people, Bruce had never felt more out of place in his life.

Sometimes it was easy to forget how different he and Tony were. How different their worlds were. Now, when Tony was swanning through crowds of the 1%, as if it was so obvious this was what he was used to? It was very clear how much Bruce didn’t belong.

“You’re too stiff,” Tony murmured, holding a pair of champagne flutes. “It’s all artifice, dear. If you act like you’re one of them, they won’t suspect a thing.

Bruce gave him a pointed glare, but begrudgingly took the glass to set aside later. “I’m pretty sure they can smell how poor I am. Like how sharks smell blood in the water.”

Tony snorted inelegantly, just like he did at home. “Ok, you’re probably not wrong. But trying to make yourself disappear into the wall is really just going to make it worse.” Tony hesitated, glancing around before pressing his lips to Bruce’s cheek. “Just stick with me, ok? No one will say a word about it if I’m around,” he whispered, barely loud enough to hear. He pulled back with a smug grin as he looped his arm through Bruce’s.

“That’s a damn lie and you know it,” Bruce whispered back, even as he easily fell into step with Tony. While his original plan had been to stick to the fringes as much as possible, that wasn’t going to work if he was going to be following his ‘fiancé’ around all night.

It was awkward. He had to deal with people talking at Tony like he was a child, politely answer the few questions tossed his way, and smile blandly at their ‘quips’ as if it was funny when almost every single one of them accused Tony of being with him solely so he could get Bruce to work for the company.

Bruce was nice enough not to tell them that he would only build weapons if hell froze over.

He had been right, though. It felt like every single person had immediately picked up on the class difference between them, and it showed through in snide looks when they thought Tony wasn’t paying attention.

Judging by the fact that he could practically feel Tony seething, Bruce was going to assume that they bothered  _ him  _ more than Bruce was bothered by it. He made a point to squeeze Tony’s hand whenever it got especially bad.

“I think you built this up to be a bigger deal than it is,” Bruce murmured after another group left them to go get more drinks. In spite of how much Bruce  _ actually _ hated being here, there was a sort of mask of politeness that made it easier to bear.

“I think you’re only this calm because I’m the opposite of calm,” Tony retorted, letting Bruce tow him away from the crowds to a more secluded corner after what felt like hours of socializing. “I’m kind of impressed, though. Guess I should have figured you could handle them in person if you needed to.”

“You really should have.” Almost thoughtlessly, Bruce leaned over to brush a kiss onto Tony’s temple.

Which apparently prompted Tony to raise their joined hands to press a kiss to Bruce’s knuckles as he scanned the crowd, still about as vigilant as he’d been since their arrival.

“Eyes on me,” Bruce prompted. “Are you waiting on someone to arrive, or are you just worried about me?”

Dark eyes flicked over, finally focusing on Bruce for more than a few seconds. “A little bit of both, mostly the former right now.”

The thought made Bruce’s mouth twist in dismay. He wasn’t entirely sure who was left to meet except--

Right. Stane. The main reason Bruce had even been so set on looking after Tony here to begin with.

He was the one person Tony hadn’t pulled up a picture of, insisting that Bruce would know it was him the second he saw him.

And when another small group of people came into the ‘party’, Bruce found that Tony was right. He somehow knew which rich dick was the infamous Obadiah Stane the second he was in their line of sight.

By all accounts, he looked like any other heavier, middle age white man, but there was something about the way Tony almost locked up when he came into the room that had Bruce’s nerves on edge.

“Hey,” he murmured, reaching for Tony’s hand and squeezing gently. “You and me, ok? Be nice and keep your focus on your fiancé. No one else.”

Tony scoffed, squeezing back. “Didn’t realize you’d be so possessive when I decided to marry you,” he fired back, a wry smile on his lips.

It was reassuring, really. And Bruce was pretty sure he’d at least managed to get his attention away from Stane, even if it was only temporarily. “Can’t back out now, Stark. You already spent way too much on a ring.”

Tony lifted their joined hands, looking fondly at the glint of gold on Bruce’s finger. “I don’t know. I kind of wanted to get something more extravagant for you, but I figured you might not appreciate it.”

“You’re so kind,” Bruce deadpanned, even if his heart skipped a beat. It was hard to remind himself that none of this was real. Sure, the touches and the reassurances were, but anything beyond that?

Tony was quick to refocus him on the matter at hand, though, eyes focused firmly over Bruce’s shoulder instead of the man who was undoubtedly approaching them. “If I fake sick so we can leave, will you cover me?” he joked weakly.

“You know I will.” Though, Bruce knew fully well that if Tony was going to fake ill to get away, he would have done so long before now. He kept his periphery on the advancement of Stane, but it was hard not to be distracted by the open warmth on Tony’s face.

“Yeah. I don’t think you’ve ever said no to me about things I ask seriously about.”

And while that wasn’t even remotely true, especially considering how many times Tony had asked him to come to one of these things, it still brought a smile to his face even if it was short-lived.

He could almost feel the shadow of the man as he stopped a few feet away from them. “Hiding from your board, my boy?” Stane asked, a sort of paternal fondness in his voice that felt more than a little fake to Bruce’s ears. “Or are you preoccupied?”

Bruce could feel the animosity bubbling under Tony’s expression, in spite of the contrite way he dropped his eyes.

It served as a rather visceral reminder why Bruce insisted that he should come to one of these things to begin with. While part of him definitely wanted to hide, it in no way matched how much he wanted to stay in order to make sure Tony wasn’t alone with this man.

Before Tony could even answer, Bruce made a point to distract him. To get his focus off the balding man before them. “Can you go get us something to drink?” Bruce asked softly, watching Tony’s gaze swivel back to him.

While there was definitely an underlying wariness, it looked like he saw something on Bruce’s face that made up his mind. “Yeah. Ok, honey.”

Bruce tutted at the endearment, watching as Tony’s expression softened further. “Don’t get yourself lectured before coming back either, all right? Take a few minutes to talk to Harrison again, too. Sort out the materials issue.”

It was bullshit. Harrison hadn’t said more than two words about materials, but Stane didn’t know that, and Bruce was going to need Tony to be away for longer than two minutes. If Tony thought he’d been ruthless with him on the phone, it was going to pale in comparison to how Bruce planned to treat him in person.

Tony walked away without much of a fuss, making a point to squeeze Bruce’s hand first. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Not too soon,” Stane added, patting Tony’s shoulder a little heavily as he passed. Really just cementing Bruce’s dislike of the man.

And then he was basically left alone with Obadiah, which was probably a terrible idea, but it wasn’t like Bruce could come up with a better one in the heat of the moment.

“So  _ you’re _ the one that’s distracting our little heir.” On the surface, there was something genial about Stane’s smile. That didn’t stop Bruce’s guard from skyrocketing.

Still, he faked an equally pleasant smile and made a show of glancing fondly over at Tony as he walked away, pausing every now and then to chat with people just like Bruce wanted him to. “I wouldn’t put it like that. He seems just as focused as ever, Mr…?”

Something cold flitted across his expression for a brief moment before that smile returned. “I’m sorry--where are my manners? Obadiah Stane; I’m acting as CEO until Tony’s ready.”

Bruce hummed contemplatively, making a point to mostly focus on people who  _ weren’t _ Stane. It was a game. Tony was here playing office politics, which meant Bruce would have to do more of the same. So while being an outright asshole was out of the question, being a little undermining was well within the bounds of ‘acceptable’. “Can’t say he’s mentioned you. Bruce Banner; it’s nice to meet you.”

If it hadn’t already felt chilly just being in Stane’s presence before, it felt positively frigid now, and while it was definitely a victory it still scared Bruce to death.

“Likewise,” Obadiah said anyways, smile still perfectly in place. “I don’t think he’s mentioned what you do, as much as he talks about you. But then, I can’t imagine that you’d spend all these years freeloading off of him, would you?”

_ That _ definitely stung, but Bruce made sure to keep his face impassive. “Just finished my Bachelors degree, actually. I’m doing my graduate work at Caltech next semester, so we’ll be moving relatively soon. I told him I would be more than happy to live on campus, but he insisted that I stay close.” He shrugged, hoping he wouldn’t zero in on the  _ actual _ lack of job.

“Oh? That seems a bit far away. I imagine it will be rather difficult to help out around here if he’s across the country.”

Bruce quirked a brow, only barely glancing over at Stane and keeping an eye on Tony instead. “There’s a branch in Malibu he’ll be operating out of. I thought you would have known, since you’re acting CEO.”

He didn’t want to admit that Caltech had been an appeasement thing on Bruce’s part, since he wasn’t sold on Columbia. And he’d rather Tony  _ not _ go back to New York when he hated it, but he’d neglected to mention that part of the decision when choosing it over Harvard. Tony wouldn’t appreciate the ‘coddling’, even if that wasn’t how Bruce meant it.

Distaste bled clearly through Stane’s polite mask, and Bruce was grateful when Tony seemed to pick up on the discomfort enough that he didn’t stay gone as long as maybe he should have, returning with a pair of champagne flutes for himself and Bruce. In spite of the fact that he knew full well that Bruce didn’t drink the first one.

“Miss me?” Tony teased, probably seeing the tension between the two.

It was really hard not to instantly relax, even if his expression warmed. “I usually do, yeah. Did you get everything sorted out that you needed to?”

While it probably shouldn’t have felt like a victory when Stane left shortly after Tony arrived, it did. He just hoped that Tony didn’t face any repercussions from it next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this was actually one of the first chapters I wrote back when this fic was still a collection of vaguely-related snippets. For some reason, I'm a sucker for fake engagements with these two?
> 
> As always, thank you guys so much for reading this and leaving kudos, comments, etc. We've got one more shorter chapter to go, to wrap up the majority of the plot, and then an epilogue and we're officially done with this fic.


	14. Chapter 14

Bruce now knew that one of the reasons Tony hated these things as much as he did was because they were  _ long _ . In spite of them arriving around seven in the evening, Tony insisted that they stay until after everyone left, staff included. Which turned out to be well after midnight, and Bruce was pretty sure he understood why Tony tended to tear himself out of his nicer clothes without the slightest care for them the second he got back to their apartment.

Not to say that  _ he  _ was going to treat Tony’s clothes with the same disregard that Tony did, but that wasn’t particularly the point.

Considering the hour, Bruce had put his foot down about them leaving that night like Tony had originally planned. And while there had been a token argument over it, it hadn’t taken too much to get Tony to relent.

Well. It didn’t take much to get him to relent on that particular subject, at least.

“What did you tell him?”

Bruce hummed inquisitively, loosening his tie and neatly rolling it up once he finally had it off. While he had a pretty damn good idea who they were talking about, it was probably safer to play dumb all the same.

“Obie’s pissed. And I know you two were alone together for a while, since you sent me away.” There was a soft thump of Tony’s coat hitting the floor, and Bruce couldn’t help but shoot him an incredulous look at the display of carelessness, even after all these years of seeing it.

He returned to taking off his borrowed clothes, laying them out neatly on the bed. “Just that you’d never mentioned him to me before. I thought it might knock him down a couple notches. Told him about the graduate school thing as well, since you seemed keen on up selling me to everyone else. And that we’re moving to California.”

“It’s not up selling if it’s true,” Tony pointed out, aiming a sullen look at Bruce. “How is it that you’re really quiet and complacent with me, but the second you’re dealing with anyone from Stark Industries you start getting kinda combative?”

Bruce wrinkled his nose, settling on the bed and pulling a worn out t-shirt the second he was out of Tony’s button down. “I’m not sure ‘complacent’ is the word I’d use. And if they’d stop trying to make you feel awful, I wouldn’t have to be combative with them.”

He was pretty sure that, in spite of Tony’s intent to be frustrated with him, there was some wry amusement in the curl of Tony’s mouth. “Ok, so correction. You’re just ridiculously protective of me, even though I don’t need you to be. Is that better?”

“I guess.” Bruce shrugged, watching as Tony finished disrobing before he more or less slid into Bruce’s lap. “Is that  _ also  _ a bad thing? Because it doesn’t look like you’ve got a lot of people pulling for you there, in spite of your insistence that it should be yours.”

Tony hummed softly, going pliant when Bruce pressed his palms on either side of his spine. “I’ll prove it, even if they don’t believe me. Just have to keep playing until they see I’m more capable than Obie is.”

While Bruce wasn’t sure how he planned on doing that, he also knew that Tony had decided to be stubborn about this, which meant that there was no changing his mind. “Just don’t lose yourself in the process, all right? I worry about how draining these things are for you.”

“You worry too much,” Tony insisted as he dipped his hand down the back of Bruce’s shirt. “Besides, we should only have to come out to these particular ones once a year or so, I think.”

“I think you’re worth worrying about, though.”

Silence hung between them, and Tony seemed content to just be there, not trying to start anything. “You know, that sounds an awful lot like a declaration of love to me.”

Immediately, Bruce wanted to shrink away from the accusation, and as much as he wanted to insist that it wasn’t, because it  _ wasn’t _ , not really, he found himself falling still, hands pressed around the bare curve of Tony’s ribs. Contemplating instead of giving into his knee-jerk reaction.

Maybe it was, he supposed. In a way. Not in any sort of  _ conventional  _ way, but it wasn’t like he could sit around and act like he didn’t love Tony. Not after everything they’ve been through together.

Hell, from the second Tony walked into their shared dorm room when he was seventeen there had been some weird kind of camaraderie between the two of them, and it hadn’t been at a strictly friendly level for a long time. If they had been normal friends, Bruce was pretty sure that the bed-sharing thing would never have happened, in spite of Tony setting his bedding on fire.

“Would that be a bad thing?” Bruce asked when it became clear that Tony wasn’t going to continue, or change the subject entirely.

He could practically hear Tony swallowing thickly, though he’d carefully hidden his face from Bruce so he couldn’t even get a hint as to what he was thinking.

That was probably a mistake. They’d been blowing off that kind of talk for years now, and maybe Bruce should have just continued that trend instead of admitting to anything.

“You know, I thought I was going to be the first one to fuck up the whole ‘joking about feelings’ thing,” Tony said after a long while, fingers pressing hard against Bruce’s back. “Like you’d make some snide comment about it and instead of brushing it off as ridiculous I’d just up and admit it. I mean, after almost four years, I was  _ sure _ I was going to be the one to actually kick off this conversation and there you went and did it for me.”

A hot blush burned across his face, and Bruce tried not to shy away from the implication. “There’s no way you knew this conversation was going to happen four years ago.”

Tony shrugged, lifting his head so he could look Bruce in the eye. “Maybe three and a half, but. I kind of figured we’d end up here eventually.”

“‘Here’ being faking an engagement and talking about feelings on your parents bed?”

Tony snorted. “You’re awful,” he admonished, pinching the back of his neck and making Bruce wince. “You know full well what I mean, and it’s a little late to derail by making me laugh.”

Under normal circumstances, Bruce probably would have kissed Tony’s shoulder in apology. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but now… It felt too serious. Like it would just be another admission of guilt.

“It doesn’t have to be a fake engagement.” Tony’s voice went soft, his spine tense. “I was planning on giving you the ring a little differently, but the time crunch snuck up on me so I ended up doing it like this. But I mean… The intent was genuine when I got it.”

Bruce was pretty sure he was both too cold and overheating at the exact same time. That… That was actually a terrifying prospect. Being together was one thing. After being close so long, they’d never really… He had figured that maybe they’d go into something a little closer to what was a ‘normal’ path rather than just continue on whatever strange road they’d walked together for so long. Something closer to ‘dating’ and then going to ‘engagement’ a few years later if it all went well.

“Tones, we’re not even a couple and you want to get engaged for real? That seems kind of rushed, even for you.”

“Aren’t we, though?” Tony countered, mouth set in a firm line. “We’ve lived together for almost four years. We’ve been sharing a bed for about as long. I’ve met your  _ family _ , Bruce--your cousin gave me the shovel talk after your graduation. We’ve been sleeping together forever, and I’m pretty sure I’ve had you listed as my emergency contact since last December. Almost none of those are normal ‘friend’ things, Bruce. What would you call what we’re doing if not dating?”

That brought Bruce pause. When it was laid out like that, it looked… Yeah, it looked like a stable, long term relationship. And his aunt was convinced that they  _ were _ involved, but that didn’t have to mean anything. Outside opinion wasn’t be-all-end-all.

Then again, Bruce hadn’t been sure what to call what they were doing for a long time. He’d avoided thinking about it. Avoided putting it into words, and just hoped that eventually, maybe, they’d sort it out.

And now that they  _ were _ trying to sort it out, Bruce couldn’t help but wish that he’d left it all alone.

“You basically just admitted to saying that you love me. In that weird but still cute way that you tend to do anything involving me. What makes this such a big step from that?”

Bruce could hear his breath trembling, hiding his face in Tony’s chest. He was right, in a way. And maybe that was what scared the hell out of him, because he was so painfully aware of how much he could want this. “You’re so reckless, Tones. What if this turns out to be a mistake?”

“You said that when we started getting more involved, too.” Tony shifted back, tipping Bruce’s head up to force their eyes to meet. “I’m not saying ‘let’s go to Vegas and elope right this second’. I’m saying ‘we should get engaged’. Give it six months, no planning, no pressure, nothing. Give it that much, at least.” He paused, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Give  _ me _ that much, at least.”

There was no hiding from that. Bruce knew, Tony probably knew, and just… Christ. It was most likely still a  _ terrible _ idea. So much could go wrong, and so much could go right, and Bruce didn’t know which one scared him more.

“How were you originally planning this to happen? Because you seem to have been thinking about this a lot without saying a word about it to me.”

Tony grimaced, immediately looking over towards the door. That was almost certainly not where he wanted this to go, and more likely than not, he knew damn well that Bruce was stalling for time. “I had a list. The domesticity one I mentioned last time we were out here? I bought the ring when it was halfway done. There’s maybe three things left to do on it, and then I was going to show you both at the same time so we could avoid the ‘not really dating’ argument.”

“The domesticity list,” Bruce repeated, not entirely sure how that was going to help. Unless it was a more comprehensive list that was similar to what Tony had already said to curtail that discussion. Though he knew ‘buying Christmas sweaters’ was on there, and that wasn’t terribly definitive. “What was left on it?”

“Um. Taking you to a company function, which I can now cross off. I’m pretty sure holiday decorating was there, and I  _ know _ adopt a pet was on the list.”

Suddenly, Bruce was reminded of the ‘pet friendly’ stipulation Tony had when they had been looking at apartments the first time around. How they had vetoed two apartments that were a little closer to campus because of it, in spite of the fact that Tony had never actually gone out and gotten a cat like he thought he had wanted to at the time.

It was something that Bruce had simply chalked up to Tony’s haphazardness and had almost forgotten about in the intervening years, since that wasn’t something Tony had been terribly vocal about when looking for places out near Caltech. That said, he was pretty sure their new apartment  _ was _ pet friendly.

“How long have you even  _ had _ this list?”

Tony scowled, tugging at Bruce’s hair as if in reprimand. “It predates you, if that’s what you’re worrying about. I didn’t meet you and write up a two page list of things I thought we should do before it counted as us dating.”

It was hard to bite back a scoff, but he was pretty sure that Tony knew anyways, judging by the narrowing of his eyes. “Two pages?”

“It’s closer to four now, single spaced, but that’s not even the point. The point is, it’s there and almost done but I wasn’t planning on actually posing the question of an engagement until later.”

That was somehow more intimidating. Tony had managed to compile a list that long, and they had managed to do almost all of it without Bruce being aware of it? He’d considered the possibility for  _ that long _ without so much as saying a word to Bruce?

Apparently Tony had gotten antsy with Bruce’s lack of quick reply, considering it wasn’t long before he started to draw back, gaze averted. “We were going in this direction anyways, weren’t we? I can’t have read  _ that _ much wrong, and you already admitted that you feel  _ something _ for me. So what’s the problem?”

Bruce was pretty sure he could feel his pulse hammering away in his throat. He didn’t know. That was the problem; that had  _ always _ been the problem with them. He just assumed that Tony was wandering just as blind as he had been, and he was apparently wrong. Obscenely wrong, and maybe that’s what scared him the most.

Tony  _ had  _ a plan. A four page, single spaced plan that ended with an engagement ring. It was only Bruce who hadn’t known what was going on with them.

“I think you need to warn me when you’re planning big, life altering things for us,” Bruce admitted. “Maybe it looked inevitable to you, but from my side? This feels really out of nowhere.”

“It always feels out of nowhere for you. I slept in your bed for a year and you were  _ still _ shocked when I wanted to fuck you.”

A flush spread across his cheeks at the memory, and he couldn’t help but feel like an idiot in retrospect. “Let me think about it, all right? Maybe let me take a look at the list, and I’ll… This is big, Tony. You know that, right?”

Something ridiculously soft crossed Tony’s face, in spite of the tightness around his mouth and shoulders. “Yeah. And I think you deserve more grand gestures like this in your life.” He stood up, and Bruce instantly missed the warmth that radiated off of him. “Six months, babe. I mean, you can decide sooner if you finally figure it out, but if it takes longer…”

There was a finality there that Bruce couldn’t say he was used to. And maybe it was a little reassuring, even though he recognized the ultimatum for what it was. “If it takes longer, you’ll cut your losses.”

A pained smile touched Tony’s lips, and for some reason that just made Bruce feel a little better about the whole thing. The knowledge that Tony would let go if Bruce didn’t give him what he needed from this. That there was a limit somewhere to just how much Tony would give him.

Bruce reached out, hand wrapping around Tony’s hip and urging him to come back. “Six months to decide, and two years to get our shit together, right? That’s approximately where our timelines stand?”

Tony nodded solemnly, but he did move to stand between Bruce’s knees without hesitation.

He took a deep breath, draping his arm around Tony’s thigh and resting his forehead just under the arc of his ribs. “All right. I can do that.”

And he would. As much as it scared him, and as strange as the whole thing had been, he wasn’t about to keep Tony in limbo for longer than he could handle, as much as Bruce liked things staying as they were.

It wasn’t like things could stay the same forever, after all. Everything was already changing so much for the both of them; what was one more thing to sort through?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god it's so much shorter than the other chapters Dx Good news is, the epilogue is considerably longer, and will be posted Thursday.
> 
> Thanks everyone so much for reading this, and I appreciate all of you <3 I hope you're all having a good holiday season


	15. Chapter 15

Physically seeing the list that Tony had drawn up--which was very obviously not originally intended for him, but he could definitely see some of the things Tony had added specifically since they had met--had been compelling to say the least. He hadn’t been lying about the length of it, and while there was something a little daunting about it, it was also meticulous in a way Bruce could appreciate.

‘Regular use of pet names’ was pretty high on the list, and he was pretty sure that stemmed from Rhodey being called honeybear almost constantly. It would make sense for  _ him  _ to be the original reason for its creation.

And really, it was cute enough that Bruce insisted that they complete the last two things during the six month period he’d been allotted before he had to officially decide what it was they were doing. The holiday decorating had been haphazard at best, but Bruce was pretty sure that it still counted.

One thing that having a cat seemed to have taught Tony was that he couldn’t leave his projects out in the kitchen anymore. It had taken a lot of chewed-through wires and countless things knocked onto the floor before Tony begrudgingly admitted defeat to the mound of orange fluff that Bruce had brought home.

He wasn’t a young cat when Bruce had picked him up, maybe five years old. And he probably was louder than maybe they should have wanted, but they were pretty fond of their adopted pet: a rather fat, long-haired ginger cat who had been named ‘Brad’ by his former owners.

Tony thought that was hilarious and refused to let Bruce change it to anything even remotely more suitable for a cat. It was probably related to how Tony tended to put on a Janet Weiss voice when calling him, which Bruce thought was just ridiculous. Painfully endearing, but absolutely ridiculous.

Still, Tony sighed heavily every time they heard the clattering of the cat’s food bowl being knocked onto the floor. A sound that had quickly come to replace Bruce’s alarm clock. “Do you think he’ll stop doing that if we don’t feed him  _ every time  _ he does that?” Tony asked, face down in the pillows even though Bruce was pretty sure he’d been awake long before their cat started being a menace for the day.

He tried not to laugh, ruffling a hand through Tony’s hair and watching him lean into the touch. It felt like mornings came earlier here. They  _ definitely _ came brighter, and Bruce was still having some difficulty adjusting to the heat. The time, though… That was getting easier. “Do you really think you have the willpower to test that out?”

With a low groan, Tony stretched out to grasp the headboard. “I’d say yes, but I think you know me better by now.”

Bruce couldn’t help but smile indulgently, smoothing his palm over the tensed muscles of Tony’s back. He took a brief moment to admire the gold ring on his own finger as it caught the light, having actually gotten used to it to the point where he frequently forgot to take it off altogether. “Stay in bed, dear. I’ll feed him.”

“I like ‘dear’.” Tony lifted his head enough so that Bruce could see the soft smile on his lips as well as the lines across his cheek from the pillowcase.

“You like everything I call you,” Bruce pointed out, dipping down to kiss Tony’s forehead before climbing out of bed. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be right back.”

He vaguely heard Tony’s affirmative hum as he closed the bedroom door behind him. Only to turn around and be faced with a grumpy Brad staring up at him, tail lashing absently.

Automatically, Bruce sunk down to his knees to scratch behind Brad’s ears, listening to him purr loudly as he pressed up into Bruce’s hand. “Yes, I overslept, I know. I’ll fix it,” he said, maybe a little overly fond considering that Brad had woken him up.

The laminate tiles were still a little unfamiliar under his bare feet, but at least the apartment here was laid out fairly similarly to the one they had in Massachusetts. Quite a bit more counter space though, which Brad seemed to enjoy.

It didn’t take long before Brad was happily munching away at his refilled food dish that had been set back on the counter, and Bruce stayed a while to scratch at his head affectionately before going back to bed with Tony. It would take another couple of hours before their cat started to demand  _ actual  _ attention instead of just food and water, and part of Bruce wanted to savor that.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised to find Tony upright and fiddling with something on his tablet, but Bruce rolled his eyes anyways. “Remember what I told you about working in bed?” he asked, climbing back under the covers and slinging an arm over Tony’s bare hip. Barely paying any mind to the mostly-soft dick pressed against the crook of his elbow.

“That it was dangerous and doesn’t count as a ‘fun bedroom activity’,” Tony recited, not looking up from his screen.

“And that if you start another fire, you have to be banished to the couch.” Bruce easily plucked the tablet out of Tony’s hands, setting it aside without so much as glancing at what he had been working on. “You’ll have to stay out there until after our wedding night, at the very least.”

The words felt a little clumsy on his tongue, though it wasn’t the first time they’d discussed the actual marriage. Bruce had more or less told Tony that he’d agree to the engagement shortly after Brad had made himself comfortable in their apartment. Before Bruce’s first semester at Caltech had even wrapped up. It still felt weird to reference, since they hadn’t come to any sort of decisions about it. Hell, they didn’t even have a  _ date  _ picked out, though he wouldn’t be surprised if Tony was planning that on his own.

Tony glowered at him though it lacked any real heat, especially considering how easily he slid back down onto the bed. “You’re the worst fiance I’ve ever had. Aren’t you supposed to dote on me and love everything I do?”

“You would get so bored of me if I did that.”

An almost sickeningly lovesick smile touched his lips before Tony carded his hands through Bruce’s hair, tugging gently and trying to maneuver Bruce over him.

Which was really going to derail any of Bruce’s half-formed plans of them just cuddling under the blankets, and he was pretty sure Tony damn well knew that.

“So are we actually going to have a proper wedding? I thought you might just want us to do a courthouse thing, since you’re all about minimal fuss.” As he spoke, Tony continued to guide Bruce closer, shifting him a little haphazardly to settle between his thighs.

Bruce didn’t even bother trying to put up a fight, fitting himself there easily and bracing his elbows on either side of Tony’s ribs. Getting reacquainted with the press of Tony’s hips against his. “But you  _ like _ fuss. And big affairs, so I figured…”

A soft sigh escaped him as he made himself comfortable underneath Bruce’s weight. “You figured you’d prioritize my wants over yours? Which I’m taking as you doting on me, by the way, and I thought you weren’t doing that so you could hold my interest.”

Bruce hid the rolling of his eyes by pressing a line of soft, wet kisses along his shoulder. Savoring the warmth of him, in spite of how much he  _ didn’t _ like the heat of the rest of the apartment. “It’s a balance, Tones. If I take you for granted too much, you’ll find someone nicer and then what will I do?” To punctuate his point, Bruce scraped his teeth against Tony’s collarbone and reveled in the sharp hiss that drew.

Strong fingers wove through Bruce’s hair, guiding him up just enough so that their eyes met, scratching his nails against his scalp in the process. “I know this is all rhetorical and you don’t  _ actually  _ think that, but I just want to say that you’ve always been good to me. And I don’t think I could ever get bored of you.”

Warmth flooded Bruce’s cheeks, and he leaned up enough to kiss the underside of Tony’s jaw. “The feeling’s mutual, in case you were wondering.”

That seemed to be enough to mollify Tony, since he was quick to loosen his hands and let his palms slide down Bruce’s shoulders. “I’d hope so, because you just agreed to an actual wedding, and I can promise you that whatever we do with the ceremony itself, the honeymoon is  _ definitely _ going to be more decadent than you’ll probably want to imagine.”

Bruce shivered under the warmth of Tony’s hands against his bare skin, absently rolling his hips against Tony’s. The motion making him well aware of the blood rushing to his cock. “I’m not even going to pretend I expected any less from you, dear.”

A wicked smile curled Tony’s lips as he traced his thumb over the gold band around Bruce’s finger. “You’ve had plenty of time to learn what to expect from me, darling.”

He scoffed, deliberately scoring his nails along Tony’s ribs and actually  _ grinding _ against him just to try and get the upper hand. “Yeah. I think I’ve figured you out pretty well by now,” Bruce murmured, watching Tony’s eyes lose focus for a split second.

Tony almost trembled, his cock twitching against Bruce’s thigh. “So are you going to actually fuck me beforehand, or are you going to actually wait until we’re married to do that?”

It didn’t even take a moment for Bruce to twine their fingers together, grasping both of Tony’s hands and raising them up towards the headboard and listening to his breath catch just from that. "How about I give you a choice. Either you wait for me to properly to put out until our honeymoon, or you wait for me to finish school before marrying me.”

In spite of Tony’s eyes narrowing, he was rather quick to drape a leg over Bruce’s hip, guiding him to slide more firmly against Tony’s pelvis and dragging a low sound from both of them. “I feel like this is a trick that’s going to somehow backfire on me whatever I choose. Because if you’re actually getting a doctorate, that’s going to be a very long engagement. But I also don’t know if I have the patience to turn you down right now, and you’ll  _ still _ probably delay the wedding a year or so if we do it that way.”

Of course Bruce couldn’t be surprised that Tony picked it up so quickly. But then, that hadn’t really been the game anyways so it didn’t really matter much if he figured it out. He just wanted to know which one would ultimately win out: Tony’s romantic streak, or his sex drive.

There was a moment’s pause, gaze considering in spite of how blown his pupils were already. “If you’re going to make me wait no matter what, I want to feel everything you have to offer me.”

Bruce exhaled sharply, still caught off guard by Tony’s words even though he’d been the one to lay out the options. Hearing him say it…  _ How _ he said it just made something curl hot and possessive in his veins in a way he hadn’t entirely expected. “Yeah, Tones. I can do that for you.”

He definitely wasn’t imagining the smug look on Tony’s face as Bruce knelt up to rummage through the nightstand, though he couldn’t bring himself to be any more than a little petulant about it.

“Do you just continually buy these as the expire?” Bruce asked, pulling out a condom as well as a familiar, well-used bottle of lube. “Because I know for a fact that you weren’t using them with me, and I can’t imagine you can get much use out of them alone, considering that you like the mess.”

Tony scoffed, shifting a bit while still keeping his arms stretched over his head. “While that’s true, I hate cleaning my toys so I get good use out of the small number I tend to keep on hand.”

Well, he couldn’t claim to be surprised by that. Tony usually complained every time Bruce insisted they change the sheets when they were done.

Though he complained a lot more when they didn’t, so Bruce had learned to just make him help do the laundry anyways. “At least you’re consistent,” he said, settling himself back between Tony’s legs.

Tony tutted, leveling a slight glare at Bruce. "That’s probably the closest anyone has ever come to calling me predictable. And I think I’m a little hurt.”

“Do you want me to tell me that you’re such a mystery and that I’ll never truly figure you out instead?” Bruce deadpanned, nudging Tony’s thighs further apart.

He hummed loudly, arching his hips off the bed and re-hooking an ankle around the small of Bruce’s back in what was probably an attempt to keep Bruce close. And was _definitely_ an attempt to show off. “I want you to promise to stay here long enough to figure me out, even though it will probably take the rest of your life.”

It was hard not to scoff as he dragged his nails down Tony’s thighs and watched the faint red marks that were left in his wake. “Why not ask for the entire world while you’re at it?”

A flash of a smile spread across Tony’s lips for a brief second as he settled back and made himself comfortable. “Because that’s what I’m promising you, babe. I don’t want you to offer me the same thing I’m going to try and give you.”

“Thoughtful.” Bruce grasped Tony’s hips, lifting him up so that he could be propped up over Bruce’s knees. It would make it easier to open him up and almost put him on display, in a way. His legs were wide open, and even without touching him Bruce could  _ almost _ see a peek of his entrance. “Is that all right?”

It took a little shifting for Tony to make himself comfortable before he nodded. Still only a little more than half-hard, but a familiar shade of dark pink was already dusting over the bridge of Tony’s nose, so he wasn’t overly worried.

Tony was capable of turning him down if he wanted. It was just hard for Bruce to remember that sometimes, and that wasn’t necessarily fair to Tony.

Bruce took a slow breath, managing to lean down enough to where he could kiss the hollow of Tony’s hip, breathing in the warm scent of his skin as he shifted his hold to curl around his thigh. “You’re gorgeous, you know. I probably don’t tell you that as often as I should, but you are.”

There was a snort of laughter before Tony’s heel was nudging against his back. “You’re so worried about sentimentality. While I  _ definitely _ appreciate the praise, I don’t need it. If I wanted someone to wax poetic about my looks, I would have gone for an English major or something.”

As ridiculous as it sounded, he supposed there was probably some truth to that statement. That didn’t stop Bruce from rolling his eyes and pinching the sensitive skin over Tony’s ribs. “Good to know part of the reason you picked me was because of my academics.”

“Can’t go wrong with a physicist, Bruce. I should know, considering I almost was one and I’m objectively pretty great.”

“Almost doesn’t count, dear.” Bruce took the time to trail his lips along the shaft, feeling it twitch and fill against his mouth. He was almost tempted to forgo his original plan in lieu of sucking Tony off, but he got the sense that it wouldn’t be all that appreciated.

It certainly killed any retort Tony may have had, considering how he exhaled heavily and seemed to go lax, hips managing to open even wider.

There was almost no trepidation as Bruce straightened up, palming over the still too-sensitive head of Tony’s cock as his free hand grasped the bottle of lube. It felt like a long time ago that he was anxious to so much as get Tony’s pants off, and now Bruce was probably a little too comfortable handling every part of him.

Bruce didn’t waste much time, delicately teasing Tony’s length while at least trying to warm up the bottle so it wouldn’t be  _ as _ cold when he needed it. The shaft slid smoothly against his hand, flushing just as darkly as Tony’s face and that just served to spark something hot in his veins.

It didn’t take long for Tony to be fully hard and moaning softly every few breaths as Bruce stroked him, and maybe he was a little mean but he had no qualms with removing his hands from Tony altogether at that point, just to hear the plaintive, disappointed sound as his hips jerked against nothing.

“You’re all right,” Bruce soothed, pouring a generous amount of lube into his hand and taking the time to warm it up properly. Tony had made a point to complain the handful of times Bruce didn’t bother with it, though he couldn’t help but wonder how much he  _ actually  _ minded.

“You’re still definitely getting a dungeon one of these years. After we buy an actual house,” Tony muttered petulantly.

“Only if you want one.” In all honesty, the thought didn’t do much for him on its own. And it never really had, in spite of how frequently Tony seemed to bring it up.

Which never made much sense to Bruce, considering they rarely did anything that even came  _ close _ to kinky.

That aside, the thought of  _ Tony _ in that kind of position… Well. They had already pretty well established that Bruce liked to watch Tony enjoy himself. That he liked things that made Tony cry out, or render him an inarticulate mess that was too far gone to so much as  _ try _ to string words together. And Tony had picked up on that pretty early on, and it suited him fine. Tony was a showoff, of  _ course  _ it suited him.

Bruce pressed his slicked fingers against Tony’s entrance, circling the rim until it softened enough to slide one inside without much resistance, bit by bit. Making a point to watch how Tony squirmed and his eyelids fluttered.

“God, you’ve gotten good at this,” Tony breathed, pushing himself off the headboard as if he could force himself further down on Bruce’s finger that way.

Really, it was sweet in a weird way, and Bruce couldn’t help but to smooth his other hand up Tony’s side before tweaking a nipple. “You’ve given me a lot of opportunities to practice.”

The ease with which Tony arched into the touch, even with as little leverage as he had, was amazing. And something that Bruce couldn’t help but mentally replay a few times, even as he took to curling his finger inside the tight, clutching heat almost automatically. He barely even had to think about it at this point, already knowing where to press to get the best results.

It didn’t take long before Tony had loosened up enough that Bruce could slide in a second, then third finger, and he idly toyed with the notion of trying to edge a fourth in as well because he was  _ sure _ Tony wouldn’t complain until afterwards, but…

As it was, Tony was gasping, precum steadily pooling onto his stomach and it would probably be cruel to keep dragging it out when Tony was begging for more with every breath he took. When he had  been straining and trying to urge Bruce on ever since the second finger, even though he had yet to let go of the headboard.

Which meant either he was doing it to try and please Bruce or he was unfocused enough that it didn’t cross his mind, but either option really just had Bruce trying to swallow down a knot of arousal. That familiar, possessive burn that he tried to suppress even though he knew Tony liked it.

Slowly he drew his fingers out, able to  _ feel _ how Tony tried to keep him in, clenching down tightly until he was left empty.

“Holy fuck…” Tony’s grasp tightened, hips arching up even as his hole fluttered around nothing, not managing to close up entirely for several seconds.

Which was something Bruce was trying really hard not to stare at, especially since he had other things he was supposed to be doing. “I feel like I could slide my entire hand up there and you  _ still _ wouldn’t be satisfied,” Bruce commented idly, just to hear Tony moan at the mere thought of it. A little broken, a little pitchy, but still gorgeous.

Really, he was so easy sometimes.

But then again, considering that  _ Bruce _ was seriously considering it just because of that sweet, barely audible sound… Maybe he was easy too.

“It’s because you’re such a fucking  _ tease _ .”

A smirk curled on his lips, faltering slightly when he fumbled with the condom. “I’m pretty sure that’s one of the reasons you like me.”

Considering that Bruce had never actually done this part with a man, his nerves started to make themselves known, even though he did his best to tamp them down. It was fine. It wasn’t a big deal. After everything else they had done, there was no reason for this to freak him out.

“You know, I’m pretty sure we don’t technically need that,” Tony said, watching as Bruce rolled the condom down his length. “I know I don’t have anything, and I’m pretty sure you don’t either. And neither of us can get knocked up, so. Seems like a moot point”

Bruce shot him a withering look, already tossing the empty wrapper aside. “You complain about cleaning up your toys when you’re done. Do you really want to clean yourself up afterwards?”

Judging by the darkening of Tony’s eyes, Bruce was pretty sure that wasn’t the right way to talk him out of it. And that wasn’t something Bruce should be thinking about right now, judging by the tightening of the knot in his gut.

“We’ll talk about that  _ after _ the wedding,” he amended, before Tony could answer. Making a point to push back mental images of Tony lying spent on their bed with Bruce’s cum trickling out of him.

At least that seemed to appease him, since Tony didn’t do much more than sigh and let his head fall back against the pillows. “You’re so responsible.”

Bruce snorted, leaning down to lap up the precum on Tony’s stomach just as a way to distract him and get him focusing on something else.

While he couldn’t say he was fond of the bitter taste or the viscous texture of it, he was definitely fond of the way Tony’s breath hitched every time Bruce took to dragging his tongue over the soft skin, swallowing down what little there was.

“I think you complain too much,” Bruce said, barely lifting his head to look up at Tony. And he already looked  _ wrecked _ , he noticed, making heat pool in his stomach and his cock twitch.

Glazed over eyes, breath coming in shallow pants, limbs sprawled loosely in spite of the fact that Tony  _ still _ had his arms over his head, and he hadn’t expected that to last so long. He hadn’t even ordered Tony to do that; it had been a wordless suggestion at most.

Bruce took a slow breath to collect himself, moving back so he could lean over Tony easier. So he wasn’t trapped beneath his hips. “You sure you’re ready?”

“Bruce, I swear to god if you put this off anymore I’m going to throttle you.”

Maybe if the circumstances were different, he would have laughed. As it was, a small smile curled his lips as he lined himself up and started to push in.

Immediately, the heat of it overwhelmed him. Hot, and slick, and maybe just a little too tight. A little too much, given how Tony’s brow had furrowed and his teeth dug into his lower lip as he stifled a low whine.

“Hey,” he chided, pausing with barely the head of his cock inside Tony. “Talk to me. Need me to pull out?”

His eyes opened, aiming a glare at Bruce as he once again started nudging at Bruce’s back with his heel. “I’m fine; keep going. Just… go slow.”

“Because I was  _ definitely  _ just going to slam into you in one go.”

Tony laughed and Bruce could feel how that made his hole flutter, drawing a soft hiss out of him as he fought to keep his hips still.

In spite of the fact that Tony’s expression read ‘pain’ in Bruce’s eyes, he did as Tony pretty much ordered. Pain and pleasure looked remarkably similar on Tony’s face, he’d learned over the years.

It was probably one of the few things that Bruce had at least nominal experience in before Tony, and for that he was grateful, even if this was a lot different than the women he had slept with prior. The mechanics were pretty much the same, at least.

Bruce made a point to go slow, shallowly rocking his hips and waiting for Tony to accept him in further. He forced himself to put the overwhelming tightness out of his mind, the way it made Bruce want to fuck in and take him for all he was worth, and just--

It was a hard train of thought to stop and redirect. He wanted it to be good for Tony. He didn’t want to be selfish, so he had to not think about that right then.

Finally, after what felt like entirely too long, Bruce felt his hips press against the swell of Tony’s ass, leaving barely any space left between the two of them. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to Tony’s chest. Only now did he let himself think about the feeling, how Tony’s ass gripped him, the heat of him radiating even through the latex barrier between them.

“Pretty sure you were more nervous about that then I was,” Tony teased weakly, dragging his nails lightly down Bruce’s back. “All right, big guy?”

“If that’s a joke about my dick, I’m calling off the engagement right this second,” Bruce muttered, shifting experimentally.

A wry grin curled Tony’s lips, though it quickly melted into something vastly different as Bruce tried to find a way to settle comfortably that wouldn’t put a lot of strain on Tony either. “Don’t be so mean… I’m good to go whenever you are, probably.”

“It’s the 'probably' that worries me." Mentally steeling himself, he took a slow breath, carefully drawing back only to thrust back into him.

When the only reaction he got was a sharp breath and Tony’s eyes fluttering, Bruce let a lot of his trepidation fall away. He’d done this before. Maybe not like this specifically, not particularly well, and not in  _ years _ , but… Tony seemed fine. Judging by the fact that his cock was still ridiculously hard, Bruce was going to assume that he either wasn’t in pain or he was enjoying whatever pain there was.

It took a little longer than it probably should have for Bruce to figure out a good rhythm, a good angle, but he felt the last of his worries fall away once he managed to consistently drag soft sounds from Tony’s throat. Once Tony started asking for more in a low voice as his legs tightened around Bruce’s waist, even if it would probably leave his thighs sore.

Bruce found a comfort in focusing on those things instead of his own building pleasure. He’d long since figured out that he’d just rather focus on making Tony feel good, and while Tony really didn’t get it himself, he’d learned not to push and to just revel in it instead because Bruce  _ liked _ giving Tony as much as he could take.

And really, it wasn’t something Tony would ever complain about considering it tended to mean that Bruce was more than happy to indulge Tony in whatever it was that he wanted.

That said, it was especially hard to ignore it now, when Tony was wrapped so firmly around him in spite of the easiness with which Bruce was able to fuck into him. Hard to ignore the heat in his veins and the way it made him want to push harder, faster, whatever it took to bring him over the edge.

Bring  _ Tony  _ over the edge.

It honestly felt obscene; the slickness of Tony’s stomach where he was  _ still _ dripping precum at a rather ridiculous rate. His ragged gasps for breath. The tight grasp Tony kept on the headboard, to the point where his knuckles were white with effort.

“You can let go,” Bruce said, shifting his balance so he could reach up and touch Tony’s hands.

As if he had been waiting for permission, which was a weird thing for Tony to do in all honesty, he let go almost immediately and curled his hands into Bruce’s hair, holding onto him just as tightly as he had been gripping the headboard.

And while normally that might have made him wince or shy away, Bruce found his hips snapping forward a little harder than he wanted to.

“Oh god--” Tony’s voice pitched higher, eyes unfocused and barely open.

Bruce was taking that noise as a sign that he should switch it up and fuck into Tony harder. Be a little more thorough, and judging by the fact that Bruce could  _ feel _ Tony’s nails digging into his scalp, his neck, his shoulders, wherever he was holding onto…

It became a cycle, at that point. The sharp sting had Bruce pushing in harder, which led to Tony digging deeper, and it wasn’t long before Bruce could feel the familiar tightness in his stomach, the burning in his veins that indicated he was close.

He exhaled sharply, trying to re-balance himself so he could wrap his hand around Tony’s cock. It was easier said than done, if he was being honest. “I’m almost…” He ducked his head self-consciously, practically rutting into Tony as if that would adequately finish the sentence for him.

Tony clearly seemed to get the message, considering that he clenched down on Bruce’s length which  _ really _ wasn’t helping the situation. “Yeah, please,” he insisted, wrapping his hand around Bruce’s to squeeze his own dick.

It didn’t take more than a handful of haphazard thrusts until Bruce was cumming, filling the condom as he tried to make sure that he didn’t stop giving Tony what he needed. Not wanting to leave him unsatisfied in spite of the haze that was quick to settle over him.

Blessedly, Tony was relatively quick to follow, choking back a moan as he spilled hotly over Bruce’s hand, entire body tightening in a way that was almost painful where Bruce was still inside him.

The room was silent save for their heavy breathing, and it took Bruce a lot longer than he would have liked until he could pick himself up to look down at Tony.

Bruce was pretty sure that Tony wouldn’t be going anywhere in the near future. The way he struggled to catch his breath, eyes unfocused but turned up towards the ceiling.

A sharp pang radiated from Bruce’s chest. He was so painfully in love with the man sprawled out below him, and he only half knew what to do with himself. “You’re amazing,” he said softly, stroking his thumb over Tony’s cheek and watching how easily he turned into the touch.

“Yeah, I know.” Tony pressed his lips to the delicate skin inside of Bruce’s wrist, breathing in deeply. “That was definitely worth the four year engagement I probably signed myself up for.”

Bruce huffed a laugh, guiding Tony up just enough to kiss him. “Four years at minimum,” he corrected, easing himself out of the tight clutch of Tony’s body. The sudden chill made him wince, but he was pretty sure it would be more uncomfortable for both of them if he stayed any longer.

Tony almost whined at the loss, a quiet, low sound from the back of his throat and Bruce couldn’t help but check to make sure he wasn’t hurt. Couldn’t help but to press his fingers against the softness of Tony’s entrance, and if it got Tony to squirm a bit… Tony certainly wasn’t complaining, at least.

“You’re all right.” Bruce brushed another kiss across Tony’s cheek before getting out of bed to deal with the condom. Probably he would have to make a trip to the bathroom so he could get a damp cloth for Tony too, but that could maybe wait.

Somehow, in spite of how lax Tony had been, he managed to get himself up enough to retrieve his tablet, his release still smeared across his stomach, and it was hard not to sigh. Whether it would be in fondness or exasperation, he wasn’t sure. Probably both. “What are you even working on?” Bruce asked, sliding back under the covers before trying to pluck the screen from his hands.

Tony dodged him easily this time, holding it up above his head. “I’m just looking over resumes, calm down. Something I can definitely do while basking in the warmth of my fiance, so you’re not getting out of cuddling me that easily.”

“Hiring someone?” Bruce asked, still trying to angle the screen so he could see. “Seems like something that the board would handle instead of you. Also seems like the kind of thing you can do in the kitchen so you can cuddle with Brad instead.”

Tony sighed dramatically, making a point to sprawl on top of Bruce, heedless of the mess. “Babe, I thought you liked me. You’re going to make me get up?”

“I’m going to keep you from working in bed, at least.” He managed to get the tablet the next time he tried, but it was difficult to not grin at the exaggerated pout on Tony’s face. “Come on, love. We can cuddle in here, or you can do your work in the kitchen while I make breakfast. You can’t mix the two.”

“You’re the worst fiance ever.” Though, even as he spoke he seemed to have made up his mind and curled up against Bruce’s side.

Bruce tutted, smoothing his palm over Tony’s side. “But I love you, so I think that at least sort of makes up for it.”

It was almost impossible for Tony to hide the grin on his lips, chin propped up on Bruce’s chest. “Love you too.”

It was hard to say with any certainty how long they stayed there. Or how long it took before Bruce finally managed to coax him out of bed.

But he knew, watching Tony petting their cat while scrolling through resumes at 11:26 on a Saturday morning, that this was what he wanted his life to be like. The two of them together, presumably for the rest of their lives.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to drag out the engagement as long as Tony would let him, though. Just to see what Tony would actually let him get away with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god it's over?? I want to thank all of you so much for sticking with this for so long. You guys are the best, and I'm probably going to expand this a little bit through some one-shots later on, but for right now I'm going to take a little bit of a writing break until the new year.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you all again <3<3<3


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